


The Rhythm Of The War Drum

by wavestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan is a Winchester, Alternate Universe, Bad Sibling Sam Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dream Sex, Drug Use, Four Horsemen, Grief/Mourning, Human Castiel, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, No John Winchester, Original Character(s), Power Bottom Castiel, Reaper Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, True Form Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavestiel/pseuds/wavestiel
Summary: Castiel has been doing pretty well in life lately. But then he has what he thinks is a dream where a man named Dean Winchester introduces himself as the Angel of Death. Everything after that is a race against time to stop the Archangel Sam from winning a civil war in Heaven.AU in which Dean is Death and Castiel somehow falls in love with him.





	1. Horizons

The first time Castiel Novak remembered seeing Dean Winchester, Castiel had been recovering from what should have been minor surgery.

The hospital room was cold, and in the overcast light from the afternoon sky, it felt dreary. The food was decent but the daytime television shows were monotonous. Castiel was used to working in the hours these shows were usually on, so being able to watch them suddenly was mildly off-putting.

Castiel flicked through the channels as the machine next to him hummed. The machine beeped twice before dispensing a dose of medicine through Castiel’s IV. The initial rush of the pain meds made Castiel’s eyes droop. His grip on the remote relaxed, and he leaned back against the mattress, eyes closing. He heard the machine beep twice more, and then it made a clicking noise. A second dose was sent through the IV. When he felt himself drifting off, he had a moment to think “Am I supposed to get this much medicine?” But as his body relaxed, he decided he would let himself enjoy the extra serving.

 _No wonder some of us end up drug addicts,_  he thought.

The sounds of the hospital seemed far away as he drifted further into unconsciousness.

Castiel felt his heart skip a beat and suddenly he was coughing himself awake. He blinked several times as his eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight beaming through the window. He raised a hand to block out the glare of the light. He stood up and walked over to the window. It wasn’t until he was pulling the curtain down that he noticed there was no longer an IV in his hand.

He flexed his hand in front of his face before turning to face his bed. The machines were all there, lit up, working away - but they weren’t making noise anymore.

Castiel glanced at the television and saw that it, too, was producing no sound although it was turned on. He cleared his throat and was surprised that he heard the sound of it.

_So I’m not deaf, I guess._

Castiel looked through the glass doors of his hospital room. It was darkness beyond the doors. He thought he saw the shape of a human figure by the nurse’s station.

_Should I….do I page the nurse?_

He took a few steps toward the bed, then picked up the call switch. He pressed the bright red NURSE button once - twice - but there was no indication it was going through.

Just as he was preparing to set it down, the call switch gave a crackle.

“Yes, Mr. Novak?” a voice said through the speaker. The voice was deep and chipper.

“Um. I-I think I may require some assistance,” Castiel said. His voice shook slightly. “I think something is wrong.”

“I’ll be right there, Mr. Novak.” The call switch crackled once more before going silent.

Castiel stood nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In the darkness, he could see the figure approaching. As the figure walked closer, Castiel could finally see an actual person standing before him.

The man was tall, perhaps slightly taller than Castiel himself, and his eyes were a bright green. His brown hair was short. The freckles that were littered across his nose were endearing. However, as handsome as the man was, his outfit was obscene. The man was wearing a red and white candy striper uniform. He looked, Castiel thought, like something straight out of a bad 80’s porno.

A smile spread across the man’s face as he entered the room.

“Mr. Novak,” he said, one hand reaching out to touch Castiel’s arm, “Tell me what’s going on.”

Castiel was momentarily confused. He had forgotten why he paged anyone at all. He was too busy staring at the man’s skimpy outfit. He glanced down at the man’s hand on his arm and remembered his own hand. He held his hand up for the man to see.

“My IV. It’s gone,” he stated. The man took hold of Castiel’s hand and inspected it. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean Winchester.” The man smiled again. “I’ll be taking care of you for now. Let’s get you back into bed.”

Castiel allowed himself to be led. Dean placed his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and steered him toward the hospital bed. As Castiel stood by Dean, he noted the smell on the man’s clothes. Faint and sweet - like marshmallows.

When Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed, he nodded toward the television. “My TV isn’t making any sound,” he said. “It was working just fine before I fell asleep.”

Dean hummed in understanding while he gently pushed Castiel against the back of the bed. Castiel watched as Dean fiddled around with some buttons on the side of the bed, adjusting it. No sound came from the bed as it adjusted itself. Dean didn’t seem to be aware that there was a distinct lack of noise surrounding them.

“Is everything okay in the hospital?” Castiel asked. Dean looked at him for a long moment, lips pursed as if he was thinking.

“Why do you ask? Doesn’t it feel okay?”

“Well...don’t you feel it? The silence? And it’s so dark out there. Are the lights out all over?”

Dean sat down in a chair by Castiel’s bedside. He smiled at Castiel and said, in a soft tone, “It’s dark out there because the only room that matters is the one we’re in. Right now you’re in between life and death. I’m here to take you home, if you’re ready.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel felt his skin prickle.

“You are, at this moment, dying. Your heart stopped.” Dean tapped his index finger against the small end-table near Castiel’s bed. “I made this room exactly like your hospital room. I thought it might be comfier.”

Castiel let out a huff of derision as he responded, “As comfy as death can be, right?”

Dean chuckled. Castiel did not return the laughter. He ran his hands over his face and sighed before saying, “You said _if_ I’m ready. Is anyone ever ready?”

“No,” Dean replied. “Some believe they are. I don’t believe you’re ready either, but that decision isn’t mine to make.”

“I get to decide if I’m dead or not?”

“Mm...not really. Whether or not you die is up to your body. Like I said, you can choose to come with me, or you can remain on this plane of existence.”

Castiel said nothing for a long moment. He was certain this was a dream - definitely the most confusing dream he had ever had - but it felt almost real. Perhaps this was what lucid dreaming was.

He was looking into the darkness beyond the door when he heard a distinct beeping sound. His body stiffened. For the first time, Castiel felt cold throughout his body. He began to shake uncontrollably. Dean placed a warm hand on the top of Castiel’s head, fingers threading through the waves of his hair. Castiel felt the warmth spread throughout his body, starting from where Dean’s fingertips rested against his scalp.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I’m just a creature put here to do a job,” Dean answered. The beeping grew louder suddenly. Dean let out a sigh. “It seems that today is not the day for you to come with me afterall.”

He pulled his hand away from Castiel’s head and began to walk away. The beeping, growing ever louder, eclipsed the sound of the breath he let out.

“Hey, wait!” Castiel shouted. Dean paused in the doorway and turned his head to look back.

“Yeah?”

“What is this? What’s happening?”

“This is goodbye. For now, I believe.” Dean winked at him. “I’ll be seeing you - when it’s time.”

Dean walked out the room and was swallowed by the darkness beyond the room. Castiel remained seated, hands flying up to cover his ears as the beeping became deafening, eyes slamming shut instinctively.

The cold that Castiel previously felt was suddenly replaced with the feeling of fire in his veins. It was as if his insides were trying to burn him alive. He let out a scream of panic, confusion, and pain. He felt himself fall off the bed as he writhed in pain.

And then, as suddenly as it all started, everything stopped. His body went limp, and he lay on the floor, sprawled on his back. The only sound he heard was the shakiness of his own breathing.


	2. Alive

Castiel opened his eyes. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. No longer was he surrounded by darkness outside his room door. Instead, it seemed that the room was dimly lit, and there was a brighter light pouring in from one direction. He realized that he was staring at the ceiling of the room.

Hadn’t he just been laying on his back, on the floor? How had he returned to his bed?

After allowing himself a second to adjust, the first thing he noticed was the sound that suddenly came rushing back to him. He heard the erratic beeping of the heart monitor; panicked voices that were trying to remain calm; the rustling of plastic.

The second thing he noticed was the feeling of something long and uncomfortable in his throat. His eyes shifted down so he could look at himself. He saw a long, clear tube that appeared to be coming out of his mouth. He followed the tube’s length from his mouth to its connection to a larger, ribbed tube.

Castiel’s breathing became shallow and shaky as his mind wrestled to understand what was going on. He reached for the tube with trembling hands. As he started to pull at the it, he saw commotion from the corner of his eye. He looked to his right and saw his brother standing in the doorway, waving his arms.

“Gab--” He tried to speak, but found he could only make a strangled noise. Gabriel heard the sound and turned to face him. Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock as he came rushing to Castiel’s side.

“Castiel? Castiel, do you understand me?” he asked, his voice a low tremor. Castiel tried to nod but found that the thing in his throat made him incapable of bending his neck. He instead shook his head. “I...I don’t know if that means you really don’t understand me or what. Don’t move. Listen to me, you’re at Northeast Methodist, remember? The hospital?”

Castiel, already confused, shook his head again. He began to pull away from his brother. Gabriel touched Castiel’s shoulder lightly, rubbing it slightly.

“Hey,” he said. “Calm down. It’s gonna be hard to breathe with that thing in your throat, I can only imagine - but calm down.”

A doctor entered the room with a nurse following close behind.

“We’re gonna need you to step back, please,” the doctor said as she came to stand beside Gabriel. Gabriel nodded and took several steps backward.

Castiel’s eyes darted from his brother’s face to the doctor’s face to the nurse’s face. His breaths were coming in sharp gasps now. Breathing felt impossible with this thing in his throat. He grabbed the tube with his hand and began to pull on it.

Abruptly, the doctor pulled his hand away from the tube. She held his hand down at his side as she said, “Mr. Novak, I can’t let you do that. Listen carefully, okay? You’re waking up from sedation. We have you intubated, okay? That’s the big blue thing in your mouth and throat. We can take it out but if you don’t cooperate it’s going to make it harder, okay? Blink twice if you understand what I’ve explained.”

Castiel blinked once - twice - and the doctor nodded at him in return.

“Good. Now I’m going to let go of your hands. Try not to move, alright?”

Everything once more moved rapidly for a moment. The nurse, standing at his other side, bent toward him and began to remove something sticky from his face.

“This isn’t gonna feel nice, I’m sorry, honey,” she said. Castiel could smell her perfume as she worked. Her hair, a dark shade of red, was long and framed her face with curls. She pulled the sticky thing off his face and held it up for him to see. “That was the tape that held the tube in place, see? Next we’re gonna take the tube out. I’m gonna lay the bed flat. Try to be as still as possible, okay?”

Castiel blinked twice. The nurse gave him a smile as she began to move the bed back. After Castiel found himself lying down flat, the doctor stepped closer to him and the nurse stood to match her position on his other side. Before Castiel had time to wonder if this was going to hurt, the nurse was removing the tube from his throat. It was certainly an awkward feeling, but it didn’t hurt as much as he was afraid it would.

With the tube gone from his throat, Castiel took in a deep breath. He sputtered as he breathed in, and he rubbed a hand against his throat as if to soothe it. The bed beneath him began to move upward, pushing him into an upright position.

“You may not be able to talk at first,” said the doctor. “We’ll get some juice and water brought to you. The throat is usually a little sore after being intubated. I’m going to check you over now. Make sure nothing seems off.”

She held up a light to his eyes and instructed him to stare ahead. Then she had him perform some basic functions such as holding up his arms and opening his mouth. When she was satisfied, she nodded in approval then left. Gabriel stood up and walked over to where the doctor had been standing.

“Can you talk, Cas?” he asked. He was wringing his hands in nervousness.

Castiel tried to speak but he ended up coughing again. Gabriel touched his brother’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay,” he said. “It was silly of me to ask. I should’ve waited for the water to get here.”

Gabriel turned around and grabbed a chair from the corner of the room. He pulled it over and, with a sigh, plopped into it.

“You really gave me a scare, kiddo,” he said, grinning in spite of the worry that was clear on his face. “Don’t do that again. I know, I know, it’s not like you were in control. It’s more like the hospital fucked up.”

He shot an angry glare at the nurse, who was fiddling with the IV bags hanging beside Castiel’s bed. She seemed to sense his stare and she frowned.

“I  _ am _ sorry, Mr. Novak,” she said, glancing at Castiel. Castiel looked back at her in confusion before shrugging his shoulders.

“I know it’s not your personal fault, sugar, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said abruptly. He adjusted his position in the chair before continuing. “It’s just - you know, Cas is the only family I’ve got. I’m all the family he’s got. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Castiel smiled at his older brother, fondness blossoming in his chest. He felt tears stinging his eyes, threatening to run free. Gabriel gave his hand a squeeze.

“Hey, don’t get all teary eyed on me,” he said with a laugh. “I was worried about you, that’s all. You’re awake now. We’re out of the woods, Cas. It’s okay.”


	3. Glitter and Gold

Castiel had experienced, in the doctor’s words, “an unfortunate incident that could, perhaps, have been avoided if some parties had been more aware.” Or, as Gabriel put it, “if certain doctors had been paying better attention, the machine might not have fucked up.”

Whatever it was that occurred, Castiel had been given a dose of medicine too large for his body. His heart had gone into arrest. After they were able to get his heart beating at a normal pace again, he had been put into a sedated coma for two days. He didn’t remember much of it, but he did remember the dark hospital with a nurse by the name of Dean.

He brushed off the Dean Winchester incident as only a dream. It sounded like he had been on some pretty heavy sedatives. Surely those medicines could produce odd dreams.

Castiel had heard that dreams only contained people you had seen at some point in your life. He was mostly curious about when he had ever met someone as handsome as Dean. He spent his last day in the hospital pondering over when he could have met the man. While Gabriel was gone to get his car ready to bring Castiel home, Castiel gave up with a huff.

He heard a gentle knock on the door before it opened. The red-headed nurse, whose name (as Castiel later found out) was Abbie, walked into the room with a wheelchair she was pushing in front of her. She gave him a smile which he returned.

“Your brother called,” she said. “He’s downstairs waiting. Hop in this wheelchair and I’ll roll you down there.”

Castiel did as he was told. Standing up wasn’t nearly as disorienting as it had been a few days before, but it was still slightly unpleasant. He winced as he sat in the chair.

“You’re gonna be okay, sugarbell,” she said, backing out of the room as easily as she could manage. When they reached the elevator, she pressed the call button then continued to speak. “I want you to know that I’m proud of the progress you made.”

“Well, it’s not like I did a whole lot,” he replied, a light laugh coming out. “Good genes, I guess.”

Abbie shook her head, sparing him an exasperated look. “Some people get all the luck, right?”

“You could say that.”

The elevator chimed as it arrived at their floor. Abbie rolled him into the elevator and pressed the first floor button.

“You were a good patient, that’s all I’m saying,” she said. She stood between Castiel and the elevator door. When it dinged to announce their arrival at the lobby floor, she peered out to make sure the coast was clear before wheeling him out. “I’m glad you’re going home though. It means we did our job.”

Castiel snorted, fighting with himself to hold back a laugh. A job well done, sure. He said nothing else as they made their way to the exit. Abbie had been a very kind nurse to him, but he felt certain he was done with hospitals. He did not want to return anytime soon.

Gabriel was outside, standing beside his truck, arms crossed. His face broke into a smile, the worry disappearing from his expression for a minute. He walked to Castiel and held out his hand.

“Gimme your bag, kiddo, no heavy lifting. Doctor’s orders, you know.” He took the bag into his hand and groaned. “Jesus, it’s heavy, how many clothes did you pack? It’s like you knew you were gonna end up being here longer than a few days.”

“That was hardly the case,” Castiel responded. “Help me into your behemoth, would you?”

He motioned to Gabriel’s truck. His brother was certainly not one to be discreet with anything. The truck was gaudy, to put it mildly.

“Just a sec, Cassie. Be right there.” Castiel cringed at the nickname. His brother set down the bag in the bed of the truck. He turned back to Castiel and opened the front door. “Up we go.” He gave his brother a push upward, helping him into the truck, before closing the door.

“Thanks for your help, Red,” he said to Abbie. He gave her a salute and walked around the truck. He hollered over his shoulder, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope we never meet again. Go do some hospital work.”

Castiel looked out from the truck, at Abbie standing there, and he waved to her. He gave her one last smile as they pulled away.


	4. Hey Brother

“You don’t have to go back to work just yet,” Gabriel was saying. “Give yourself some time to recover!”

Castiel sighed heavily. He was slumped down in a lounging chair as his brother fussed over him. Gabriel had insisted on bringing Castiel back to “chez Gabe”. He knew it was because his brother wanted to make sure he was really and truly feeling alright. However, he just wanted to be in his own house, in his own bed, with the lights off.

“Do you think that I’m getting any rest when you’re fussing around like a mother hen?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I know you mean well, Gabriel, but I’m going to be fine. I feel fine. A little tired, but I’m fine.”

It was understandable for Gabriel to be worried. After all, they truly did only have each other. Their parents had died some years prior, and they had buried their younger sister only months before their parents’ deaths.

It was easy to find little things to argue about with his brother, but he loved him despite their quarrels. They balanced each other out. And, more often than not, Gabriel was usually correct when it came to Castiel needing to take a breather.

“Don’t worry so much,” he continued. “Just relax. I’ll take my own advice, too. I’ll relax. See?” He kicked his shoes off. “Relaxing.”

Gabriel laughed as he fell on top of the couch. “Point taken,” he responded. He removed his shoes as well and took a deep breath. “Think on it, okay? About going back to work, I mean. I know it’s just a ‘work from home’ gig, but it might still be unnecessary stress. Take it easy, bro.”

Castiel nodded his head in agreement. His job could be demanding at times, he knew that. Perhaps his brother was right.

“I’ll take your advice into consideration,” he said in a light tone. “Let’s talk about dinner. Since I’m not supposed to stress myself, I’m sure that cooking falls into the stress category. What will you be cooking tonight, chef?”

“Tonight we will feast upon the delicacy that is pizza!” Gabriel announced. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll allow you to try my newest recipe, The Domino’s 5.99 Special!”

Castiel chuckled at his brother’s antics. “Tell me, chef, can I request special toppings on your 5.99 special?”

“For a limited time only, yes you can. You’ve come to the right place.” Gabriel fooled around with the phone, pressing buttons and squinting at the screen. “What sort of unique toppings might you request?”

“The rarest of rare meats, dear brother. Pepperoni.”

Gabriel let out a whistle. “Whew, you’re lucky, sir. You’ll be getting our last bit of pepperoni. You made it just in time.”

Castiel watched Gabriel as he proceeded with the pizza order. Castiel eventually took out his own phone. They exchanged small banter in between phone clicks. He busied himself with reading emails he had failed to check while in the hospital; Gabriel became preoccupied with watching the pizza tracker.

As the night wore on, and the pizza finally made its way to Gabriel’s door, Castiel stopped reading long enough to think about the hospital.He didn’t remember much of his stay there. He remembered being admitted for surgery, and he remembered waking up with a tube in his throat.

But the dream...it was a dream, wasn’t it? Castiel frowned and stopped chewing. He set the pizza slice he was holding onto a plate. Gabriel was quick to notice.

“Are you in pain?” his brother asked. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel shook his head before replying, “No pain. Maybe my brain is still foggy, that’s all. Mind if I go lay in that spare room?”

“Not at all. Holler if you need me.”

Castiel mustered up the most convincing smile he could as he stood up. He set the plate on the coffee table and walked out of the living room. The spare room in Gabriel’s apartment wasn’t well organized, but he could tell that his brother had tried to tidy it up. The bed was actually made; the pillows, though mismatched, were lined up along the headboard; there was a trash can beside the bed now. Castiel laughed a bit as he realized the lengths his brother must have gone to to try and arrange the room to his liking.

He set his phone on the bedside table, ate some of the medicine the doctors had prescribed him, and then he melted into the bed. He inhaled deeply and pulled one of the pillows close to his chest.  _ Dean Winchester _ , he thought vaguely. He was asleep before he knew it.


	5. In The Air Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning about kinda graphic description of violence in this chapter, so if that's hard / triggering for some, just letting you know it happens.

It had been four days since Castiel was released from the hospital. For the first time all week, Gabriel had agreed to let Castiel go with him to work. Gabriel owned a travel company that their parents had started decades ago. Castiel had worked there while he was going to college, but it was never something he had wanted to do eternally. Instead, once he was done with college, Castiel went to work for a social media company. This allowed him the luxury of staying at home as he wrote commentary pieces about food and politics. While he much preferred his own work to Gabriel’s, he was developing a touch of cabin fever.

And so, he had ended up at Gabriel’s office building. He was a little surprised at the amount of people that worked in the actual office. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought about how rarely he even asked about his brother’s business. He was admiring the break room when Gabriel caught up to him.

“So!” he said in a booming voice. “You proud of me yet, kiddo? It’s like I run a legit business, am I right?”

Castiel chuckled. “Yes, Gabe, it’s very impressive,” he replied. “Mom and pop would be proud of you, too. In case you needed reminding.”

“Baaaah, come on. Don’t get all sentimental on me.” Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “Hey, I was thinking, since you’re feeling alright so far...you think you’re up for a little errand?”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow in interest.

“I could really use a coffee, bro, if I’m being honest.” His brother smiled sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you be up to grabbing us some java from the shop across the street? It’s probably not up to par with the places you review on that blog, but I dig it. You down?”

Castiel let out a bark of laughter. “Screw you,” he said. “Yes, I can get you some coffee. I do write about regular coffee, you know. It’s not always dairy-free lattes.”

“Yeah yeah, so you say. Take my card and get me my usual.” When Castiel gave him a quizzical look, Gabriel continued to say, “Just tell them it’s an order for Gabe. They know what it means. Get yourself a little cup of joe as well. Don’t worry, I can afford any coffee blend your boujee ass desires.”

“Har har,” Castiel said as he took the debit card that Gabriel was holding out. He tucked the card into his back pocket and walked out of the building.

It was bright outside, which Castiel usually enjoyed, but the air felt a little chilly that morning. It was just early enough in the day that there wasn’t a plethora of traffic. He was able to cross the street without issue.

When he stepped into the coffee shop (it was called The Junkyard, according to the sign), he was greeted with the warm smell of pastries and coffee beans. It was a quaint little shop. The usual brown painting was on the walls, and the usual small tables, two chairs at each one, filled most of the space. There was a display of pastries and sandwiches to the left of the register, where a young woman stood ready to greet him. When Castiel’s eyes met hers, she gave him a smile.

“What can I do for you today?” she said in a bright tone of voice. Castiel approached the counter slowly.

“Well, my brother said to tell you that I’m here to order for him and you’d know what to do,” Castiel said, fingers tapping nervously against the countertop. “His name is Gabriel -- Gabe, sorry.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “You’re Cas, right? I’ve heard so much about you. Hang on, let me get that order started for you.”

The girl hopped away for a minute and spoke to - Castiel assumed - a worker in the back. “Guys!” she shouted, leaning into a doorway that separated the back area from the front of house. “Gabe’s usual, please.”

There was the sound of someone hollering back although Castiel couldn’t quite hear what was said. The cashier swerved to the side and grabbed a muffin from the display case. She walked back toward Castiel as she tucked it into a small bag.

“Well, it shouldn’t take too long,” she said, setting the muffin down in front of him. “What’ll it be for you?”

“Ah...I’m not sure,” was Castiel’s response. He was skimming the menu that was printed on a large poster located beside the register. “What does Gabriel usually get?”

“He likes a mochaccino with a splash of vanilla milk, four shots of espresso, and a chocolate drizzle all over.” Castiel’s face must have shown the shock he felt because she laughed and said, “I know. The owner of this place - her name’s Kali - she was here the first time he asked if we could make a drink like he wanted. She made it herself. He liked it so much that he came back and asked her to do it again. So, it’s a Gabe thing now. We can definitely figure out a drink you’ll like if you tell me what floats your boat flavorwise.”

“When I’m at Starbucks, I enjoy a frappuccino. I like the one they make that tastes like cake.”

“Ooh, got a sweet tooth like your brother, huh? I’ll see what we can do. Hold on just a sec.”

She walked to the back again and spoke to the workers in the back. This time, she spoke softly. She nodded at the person she was speaking to then came back to Castiel.

“Just a few minutes,” she said, pressing buttons on the register. She slid the muffin closer to him. “That’s Gabe’s usual snack he gets with his coffee. Tell him this time, his order is on Charlie. I’ll take care of it.”

Castiel was taken aback. He blinked slowly, processing what she had said.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can pay,” he said after a second. Charlie smiled and shook her head at him.

“Nah, it’s not about the money,” she replied. “I know he was worried sick about you. It’s why I’m so happy to see you in here. You look much better than I was expecting, given what you went through after surgery. Next time, though, I expect money.” She winked at him as she said the last sentence.

Before Castiel could respond, a voice yelled “Gabe’s usual is ready, Charles!” Two drinks sat waiting for her in a small window by the kitchen. Charlie strode to the window, plucked the two drinks into her hands, then deposited them into a drink holder. She approached Castiel with them held out.

“You’re good to go,” she announced.

“Thank you,” he said, matching her smile. “He’s going to really appreciate this. I’ll tell him you said hello?”

“Ooh yes, please do that! And tell him I expect to see his joker face in here next time!”

“You got it.” Castiel placed the bagged pastry in between the drinks and walked to the door. He gave her a wave goodbye as he left the coffee shop.

When he stepped outside, the traffic was suddenly flowing. There were no crosswalks in this area of town. So he waited patiently, tapping his fingers on the drink holder, humming to himself a little tune that had been stuck in his head all morning. He was alternating glances between his right and left, waiting for the opportunity to cross. It was during a glance to the left that a man approached his right side.

“Weather’s a little nippy this morning, don’t you think?” the stranger asked. His voice was deep; it struck something in Castiel.

Castiel turned his head to look at the person standing beside him, and he almost dropped the drinks out of shock.

“....Dean?” he asked, his voice trembling somewhat. He knew those green eyes; that face; that voice. He remembered every detail of that dream.

“You got me,” Dean replied. The nurse’s outfit was gone. This time, Dean was dressed simply in jeans and a button-down flannel. The sleeves were rolled up his arms. He flashed a small grin at Castiel. “I’m surprised you remember me, honestly. I’m not usually wrong about when it’s time for a spirit to come with me. Wasn’t sure what kind of after effects you’d have.”

Castiel’s head was swimming. This wasn’t possible. He had only just managed to convince himself that it was all a dream - some sort of hallucination from being in the coma - but here Dean was, standing beside him in broad daylight. His eyes darted around, bouncing from moving vehicles to the birds flying overhead. He could hear everything. Nothing was dark. This wasn’t like his dream at all.

“You were...you were just a dream,” he said finally.

Dean shook his head and said, “Not a dream, pal, sorry. This time I’m not here for you either. Someone else is at their end.”

“Someone is dying?”

“Not actively dying, no. But in a minute, they’re going to die.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s complicated.” Dean tucked his hands into his pockets and exhaled harshly. “I wasn’t even sure you’d be able to see me. Most people shouldn’t be able to. You’re an interesting one, I’ll give you that.”

“If I’m the only one that can see you, does this mean I’ve lost my mind?” Castiel’s hands began to shake. His grip on the drinks tightened.

Dean looked at him somberly as he replied, “You’re not crazy, Castiel. You might wish you were one day.”

_ As if I don’t already wish that were the case _ , Castiel thought.

“Why are you here again?”

Dean sighed. “I told you---”

“Yes, I know what you told me,” Castiel said, cutting Dean’s words off. “You’re here because someone is about to die. But  _ why _ are you here?”

“I’m the Angel of Death. I come to collect the souls of the dead. When the trumpet is blown, it’s time. I don’t make the rules. I just follow them. Make sense?”

“None at all.” Castiel stared at him in disbelief. The Angel of Death? Please. “If you’re an angel, where are your wings?”

Dean laughed, low at first then loud and hard. “That’s cute,” he said when he had caught his breath. “Not an angel in the way you would think. Some would simply refer to me as Death. Some would call me the Reaper. I call myself Dean.”

Castiel nodded, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening.

“You don’t look like Death.” he asked.

“Mm...not always.” Dean tilted his head a little. He locked eyes with Castiel. As Castiel looked at Dean, he saw the iris of Dean’s eyes change from green to black. The black spread over the whites of his eyes. Castiel felt a tingling throughout his body.

“I’m sorry this has to happen,” Dean said, straightening up and caressing Castiel’s cheek with one hand. He rubbed his thumb across Castiel’s upper lip, his touch firm but gentle.

Castiel placed his hand over Dean’s. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Castiel heard someone across the street yelling his name.

“Cassie!” Abruptly, Castiel turned his head in the direction of the voice. Gabriel was across the street, waving at him. He hollered, “You okay?”

“Fine,” Castiel replied. He turned his eyes back toward Dean, but Dean was gone. There was no sign that the mysterious man had ever been there except for the lingering smell of burnt marshmallow and the warm feeling where Dean’s hand had been.

Castiel stared at the empty space, his hand lingering on his cheek, wondering if he truly had gone insane. He squinted his eyes before turning back to look at his brother. Gabriel looked around, waiting for a moment to cross the now busy street.

“You were taking a while, I got worried,” Gabriel shouted. “Let me come grab those from you.”

The one way street was abruptly a little emptier than before, so Gabriel began to walk across it. As he got closer to Castiel, he reached out for the drinks. “I’ll take mine if you don’t mind. I know you hate when I sound like a mother hen, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Castiel replied. “I got distracted.”

Gabriel was standing in front of him, drink in hand, the other hand resting on his hip in an admonishing pose.

“It’s no big deal, bro,” he said, smiling. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost somewhere on the long journey from the coffee place back to the office.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and shoved the bagged pastry at his brother. Gabriel gave an “ooh” of surprise and snagged it happily. He was still facing Castiel as he began to back into the street.

“Let’s go plan some vacations for people richer than we’ll ever be,” he said as he sipped on his drink.

“There’s no one richer than you, Gabriel,” was Castiel’s response. Gabriel chuckled as he whirled around to face the right way.

Castiel was confused once more as his mind wandered back to Dean Winchester. He stayed put a second longer, staring at the spot where he  _ knew _ Dean had been standing mere moments before.

_ It has to be some sort of trick _ , he mused.

He shook his head, attempting to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. He looked up toward Gabriel and began to follow. He stopped the toss the drink holder in the nearby trash can, his drink grasped in his other hand, when he heard the loud blare of a horn.

He jerked in surprise, eyes immediately searching for the source of the sound. He heard the screech of rubber on asphalt, and before he had time to figure out  _ why _ a car would be making so much noise, he saw a sedan slam into his brother.

Gabriel, who at that point had nearly reached the other side of the street, was sent flying. Castiel watched, horrified, frozen in place, as his brother’s body was flung into the air. Gabriel’s body flipped then landed on the sidewalk with a loud thump. The car that had hit him crashed into a parked car nearby. The horn continued to blast. Castiel could see the outline of someone slumped over in the driver’s seat, their head pressed against the steering wheel.

Everything after that became automatic. Castiel was dimly aware that there were people emerging from the shop on their left; someone was hollering; someone else was rushing over to the crashed car. Castiel had eyes only for his brother.

“GABRIEL!” he bellowed as he sprinted across the street. The drink fell from his hand as he landed on his knees beside his brother. Gabriel’s legs were sticking out at odd angles. His eyes were nearly closed, glazed over and staring beyond Castiel. Castiel saw Gabriel’s chest rising just barely, and he could hear shallow gasps for air coming from his brother’s mouth. He took Gabriel’s face into his hands gently, unable to stop the shaking his body was doing.

“Hang on, Gabriel, hang on,” he whispered, tears clouding his vision and spilling onto his face. He rummaged in his pocket with one hand, searching desperately for his cellphone.

His hand shook uncontrollably as he tried to dial 911, but there was wetness on the phone preventing him from pressing the numbers correctly. To his horror, Castiel realized it was blood. His fingertips were covered in blood. Gabriel’s blood.

The tears began to spill from his eyes again, and his breaths were coming in short ragged gulps. The phone fell free from his hand, hitting the pavement with a sharp CRACK!

_ No. No. Focus. _

Castiel cleared his throat; took one deep breath; and he wiped the blood from his hand. He picked the phone up and dialed the emergency number.

The response was fast. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“My brother, he’s been hit by a car,” Castiel said in a rush, fighting to keep his voice from falling off. “He’s barely breathing. His legs look broken. There’s blood but I don’t know where it’s coming from. It’s on my hands.”

“Okay. Where are you and your brother now? Has he been moved?”

“N-no, I haven’t moved him. We’re at 867 North Boulevard. We’re outside, uh, we’re outside his business. It’s called Novak Travelers.”

“How old is the victim?”

“He’s - he’s thirty-five years old. White. And um -- he was crossing the street when this car -- it just hit him. I can’t think of what other info you need, I’m sorry.”

“You’re doing fine, sir, it’s okay. I’ve got first responders on the way. They shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes. What’s your name, sir?”

“Castiel Novak. My brother’s name is Gabriel Novak.”

“Okay. Castiel. Stay with me until they get there. Is the driver of the vehicle nearby?”

Castiel looked over at the gold sedan, motionless. There was steam coming from under the hood. But Castiel saw no movement from the person inside it.

“I can see the car, and the driver, sort of. They’re not moving.” The wail of a fire truck horn blew down the street. “The firemen are here.”

“Good. I’m going to hang up now, okay? The paramedics will be right behind them.”

“Okay. Thank you.” The line beeped in his ear, and then the call ended. He heard the whoop of police sirens, followed by an ambulance.

Everything after that moved slow and fast simultaneously. It was excruciatingly slow as the paramedics first checked then loaded both Gabriel and the car’s driver onto gurneys. Then it was fast - too fast - as they whisked the injured parties away.

A police officer pulled Castiel aside to write down his statement of what had occurred. Castiel saw another officer speaking to one of the bystanders, the one that had been checking on the driver.

_ “Sir, you said the victim that was hit, he’s your brother?” _ Castiel could hear the questions, and he heard himself responding - but it was as if he heard it happening through a thick wall. He was speaking without even realizing it was his own voice.

_ “My only brother. His name is Gabriel.” _

The slowness hit once more when the police officer told him which hospital his brother was being taken to. And the brisk pace hit again as Castiel rushed into the building to see if Gabriel’s keys were inside his office. He didn’t even register that all the employees inside were gathered by the front doors, staring outside and whispering amongst themselves.

Hannah, the receptionist, was the only one to approach Castiel. She found him rummaging in Gabriel’s desk.

“Castiel?” Her voice was timid. “What are you looking for?”

“His keys. The keys to his truck.” Castiel was moving without thinking, hands rummaging through the drawers. “I need to get to Northeast Methodist right away. They brought Gabe there.”

Hannah approached him cautiously and offered, “Let me take you there. Please. Just let me take you.”

Castiel looked up at her. He froze with his hand in the drawer. He knew the keys weren’t there. They were undoubtedly on Gabriel’s person.

Hannah placed a hand on his elbow and navigated him gently out of Gabriel’s office. When they reached her car, and she helped Castiel settle into the passenger seat, Castiel resisted the urge to scream.


	6. One More Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character on life support in this scene. Just a warning.

Castiel came bolting into the Emergency Room. He was slightly out of breath as he approached the nurse’s station.

“My brother was just taken here, he was hit by a car,” he said hurriedly. “Gabriel Novak. That’s his name.”

The nurse gave a hum of understanding and began typing on her computer. She frowned and stopped typing.

“Erm...he’s not in our system,” she said, frowning more. “I know the patient you’re talking about though. Hang tight, I’ll find out what’s going on.”

She picked up the phone receiver on the desk and spoke into it. “Hey Abbie, can you tell me what’s going on with the patient that was struck by the car? Was just brought in, yes. N-O-V-A-K.” She paused. “Oh...sure thing. Yes the family is here. I’ll do that.”

She returned the receiver to its cradle and looked up at Castiel. “His information isn’t in the system, but I’ll work on that. They brought him back there a little while ago, they just haven’t had time to enter it into the database. A doctor is going to be out to see you as soon as possible, sir. Have a seat in the meantime. Try to stay calm.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “Thank you very much,” he said as he stepped back from the nurse’s station. He saw Hannah sitting beside a large fish tank and he walked to the empty seat beside her.

She looked up at him expectantly. “They’re going to update me once they can,” he told her. He briefly watched the fish swim, trailing up and down the tank. Up and down, up and down.

“Okay...do you want me to wait with you?” she asked. “I don’t mind at all.”

“No no,” he replied. He forced a small smile and looked away from the tank. “You go back to work. Reassure everyone as best as you can, please. You’ll probably need to close up shop on your own.”

“I can manage that. You call me as soon as you know something, got it?” She stood suddenly and pulled him up into an embrace. “I’ll come back once everything is in order at the office.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Castiel allowed her to squeeze him for that moment. He even returned the embrace. She patted his shoulder and left the waiting area.

Castiel sat back down in the chair with a groan. He folded his hands in his lap and stared down. He noticed the dark maroon color on his hands.  _ Gabriel’s blood _ , he realized with some alarm. He began to frantically rub his hands on the front of his jeans.

After a second, the force with which he was rubbing his hands began to burn a little. The burn distracted him from where he was, if only for a moment.

_ I’m not doing anything but moving the blood to my pants. Genius. _

He stopped moving completely, his eyes focusing on the tiled floor in the waiting room. Distantly he heard the news playing on the TV.

He overheard snippets of “A pedestrian was mowed down as he crossed a street today...” and “A bystander captured footage of the incident...” and finally “The following video is graphic and contains some swearing, be advised…”

Castiel’s eyes strayed to the TV screen across the room. There, in front of him, was his brother’s accident broadcast on the news. As if it was their concern. As if they had any right.

A shaky video was playing on screen. There was someone posing with a box of donuts.

“Oh shit, hold on I’m recording a video, my bad,” a voice said. There was rustling behind the camera when suddenly the sound of a car horn cut across the person speaking. A car could be seen in the background of the video, swerving down the quiet street. For the second time, Castiel watched as the gold colored sedan slapped his brother across the street like a ragdoll.

“Fuck!” the voice screamed. “Dude, did you see that?! What the FUCK.”

Castiel felt his throat constricting. He strode across the waiting area to the TV and smashed the power button.

“My brother is not your evening entertainment,” he growled, tears welling up in his eyes hot and fresh.

He sat down in the seat beside the television to wait.

It felt like it was taking years for a doctor to come out and update him. As he thought back on it, though, he realized his brother had to be in critical condition. He knew it had really only been an hour or two. But it felt like an eternity.

The image of his brother sprawled on the ground, legs sticking out in opposite directions, replayed in his mind’s eyes. The sound of his brother’s labored breathing sent chills down his spine. It was an endless loop of intrusive thoughts.

He couldn’t help but think of the worst possibility. Dean had said he was there to collect a soul. The soul of someone who was about to die. That was his reason for being there. But the person who died could easily have been the driver of the car, right? Castiel couldn’t remember seeing the driver move at all. But then, he hadn’t really gotten a good look at the driver beforehand.

_ If you had looked, maybe you could have warned your brother to get out of the way. _

Castiel shook the negative voice from his head.

“That line of thinking is not going to help anyone,” he muttered to himself. He let out a hefty sigh.

And seeing Dean again had to be real. It had to be. The dream from before wasn’t a dream then.

“He said his name is Death...that can’t be real.” He ran his hands through his hair. If it wasn’t real, how else could he explain the freak accident?

A familiar voice interrupted his thinking.

“Castiel?” He opened his eyes and saw a woman standing in front of him.

“Abbie,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

“You look much better than the last time I saw you,” she said. She sat beside him. “I wanted to give you an update. The doctors are busy, but I thought you should know what’s going on.”

“I appreciate it.”

Abbie’s expression grew dark. She paused for a long moment before saying anything. “It isn’t good, I’m afraid. I wish I had better news for you.” She grasped his hand tenderly. “Both of his legs are broken. His right lung was punctured by a broken rib. And his heart, Castiel. His heart has stopped twice.”

Castiel’s blood ran cold. “What does that mean?”

“It means he went into cardiac arrest, but we did revive him both times. We’re waiting on some scan results at the moment. We’ve got him on a ventilator for now.”

“So he’s alive?”

“The blunt answer? Yes, medically speaking his body is alive. We’re not sure how much damage the brain has been dealt at this point. The next twenty-four hours are going to be a waiting game.” As she explained things to him, her grip on his hands remained steady.

“Can I see him?” he asked, his voice low.

“Absolutely. Come with me.” Abbie rose and brought Castiel with her. She motioned to the nurse sitting at the desk and the double doors to the emergency room opened. Abbie led him to a room in the trauma bay. He could see his brother lying in a room with glass doors. There were two doctors standing inside the room. For a moment, he had a strong sense of deja vu.

Abbie slid the glass door open and gestured for Castiel to enter before her.

“Hello there,” one of the doctors greeted him. He was in green scrubs and his arms were covered in tattoos. “The brother, I presume? I’m Doctor Brooks. This is my colleague, Doctor Gesner.” He nodded toward the other doctor, whose scrubs were a deep shade of blue. “I’m a neurosurgeon. I was called in to evaluate Gabriel.”

“Give him a minute to see his brother, would you?” Doctor Gesner admonished. Doctor Brooks assented, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll give you a minute alone with your brother. We need to check on our test results anyway.”

As the doctors exited the room, and Abbie made to follow, she stopped briefly. “I’m right out here if you need anything, okay?” she offered. Castiel nodded silently.

He walked to the bed bit by bit, stopping only to calm himself down. When he laid eyes upon his brother’s broken frame, he had to bite back a cry of anguish. Gabriel’s eyes were closed. There was blood caked on one side of his head. His legs were covered by a blanket. IV lines were in his hand and his arm. The thing that made Castiel gag involuntarily was the breathing tube down his brother’s throat. Castiel absentmindedly began rubbing his own throat, as if he were trying to get rid of something.

He looked around the room to see if there was a chair. There were, indeed, three of them. Castiel grabbed the one closest to Gabriel’s bed and scooted it closer. He sat down in it before softly grasping his brother’s hand in both of his own hands.

“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. Forever and ever. Amen.”

Castiel raised his hands, with his brother’s clasped between them, to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “Amen,” he repeated.

It was mostly silent for a moment. The only sound was the distant beeping of monitors and the ventilator. Castiel watched his brother sadly, observing the automated rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest. Each time it rose, the machine wheezed with life.

“I’m here, Gabriel,” he muttered. “I’m here.”

The door slid open and the doctors were suddenly walking back in. Castiel set his brother’s hand down tenderly, careful not to get any of the lines wrapped up. Doctor Brooks looked at him grimly. He held a small stack of papers in his hand.

“I was wondering if we could talk to you about what’s going on so far,” he said carefully.

“Yes, please,” Castiel responded. The doctors sat down in the remaining two chairs and scooted themselves nearer to him.

“So...here’s what we know this far,” Doctor Brooks began. “We did some scans on him when he first came in, right? What we’re looking for in those scans is brain activity. When I look at this -” He held up a paper for Castiel to see. The paper was wrought with lines pointing straight across the page. “- What I want to see is these lines going up and down. Ideally, even a little movement is indicative of  _ some _ life. But Gabriel’s scans - they showed no brainwave activity. At all.”

Castiel looked from the paper to the doctor’s face, bouncing back and forth between the two. “What does that mean?”

“Well, on its own, it just means the brain may not be functioning completely,” answered Doctor Gesner. “But we did some other scans of his brain as well. What we saw on the scan was that there’s no blood circulation to the brain.”

She paused for a minute and exchanged a look with her colleague.

“Unfortunately, this means there’s very likely no life left in your brother’s body,” Doctor Brooks continued, picking up where Gesner had left off. “What this means, from our professional view, is that we’re going to diagnose your brother as braindead. What’s keeping him alive right now is these machines. In this state, being brain dead means he is legally dead.” The doctor paused for a moment, his expression concerned. “Are you with me so far?”

Castiel’s head was swimming. This couldn’t be true. Not his brother. Not Gabriel. Gabriel, who had always been strong and agile. Gabriel, who had raised Castiel since their parents died.

“This isn’t real,” he breathed, his voice cracking.

“I’m sorry that we don’t have better news,” Brooks said seriously. “What’s standard in this situation is that we give it at least another twenty-four to forty-eight hours. We’ll do more tests to check and see if anything changes. But I have to warn you that in my opinion change isn’t likely.”

“What happens after the forty-eight hours?”

“At that point, it’s up to you, his family. We would take him off life support when you’re ready.”

Take him off life support...the words echoed in Castiel’s mind. Not again.

Doctor Gesner touched his shoulder comfortingly. “You can stay by his side until the very end. You don’t need to leave this room at all if you don’t feel like it. Call any family members you need to. We’ll be in and out, checking on him, doing more tests. Okay?”

Castiel nodded numbly. The doctors stood and left the room briskly. They closed the door silently behind themselves.

With all the strength he could muster, Castiel reached for his brother’s hand again. He clasped it softly.

“Hey,” he whispered earnestly. “Listen to me, Gabriel. I’m going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. And if you -- if you n-need to go, it’s okay, brother.” His chest ached as he continued. “I just want you to know that you can go in peace. I will always love you. But it’s okay for you to go.”

He leaned forward and rested his head against the edge of the bed. For a long while, he sat there motionless, his mind running a mile a minute. His breaths came in frazzled hisses, and his face was wet with tears. It had been a decade since he had cried this much.

In the shadows of the room, unbeknownst to Castiel, his brother watched on with Dean Winchester at his side.


	7. Bronte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of taking someone off life support in this chapter.

Forty-eight hours passed more quickly than Castiel thought it would. After the first twenty-four hours, he had called his cousin Balthazar. Balthazar was from his mother’s side of the family. Castiel and Gabriel had always gotten along well with Balthazar, although his wife was a little unhinged, as Gabriel liked to say.

The Novak family was large, and it was easy to get lost in that sea of family members. After their parents died, Castiel and Gabriel had agreed to sort of...disappear. It wasn’t because of ill feelings toward their extended family. It was just so much to deal with. They had been overwhelmed with phone calls and letters of “I’m sorry for your loss”; “Please accept our condolences”; “Your father was such a good man”; “Your mother was such a beautiful woman”. Castiel knew they meant well, but it was a lot to deal with. He kept the various aunts and uncles satisfied with annual updates on how he was doing, not that there was ever anything particularly strenuous to report.

When Castiel had called him, it was the middle of the night. He felt bad once he realized how late it was. He had lost track of time.

“Cassie?” Balthazar had answered, concern evident in his voice. “Are you okay?”

Castiel had started to speak, but he found that he could say nothing. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Balthazar...it’s Gabriel,” he said finally. “Gabriel was in an accident...he’s…” He choked on his words and began to cry again.

“Where are you?”

“The hospital. We’re at the hospital.”

“Northeast?”

“Y-yes.” Castiel could hear rustling on the other end of the line. It occurred to him that he had just called his cousin in the dead of night, probably had woken him up or at the very least interrupted time he was spending with Meg. “I’m sorry I called so late but--”

“Don’t apologize, Cas. I’m on my way there now. Don’t move.”

Balthazar had stayed on the phone with Castiel the entire time. When Balthazar arrived at the hospital, Castiel went to greet him at the double doors that led to the emergency room. Balthazar was dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He had definitely been sleeping then.

When Balthazar spotted him, he was wrapped up in a tight embrace. Balthazar had stood firm as Castiel sobbed on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here now,” he said, one hand rubbing Castiel’s back.

That was after the twenty-four hour mark. Now, at the forty-eight hour mark, Castiel found himself once again on the edge of despair.

The test results had not improved. Gabriel was still being kept alive only by machines. Castiel knew that his brother would not want to remain on life support any longer than necessary.

Doctor Brooks and Nurse Abbie were standing by the door of Gabriel’s room. Dr. Brooks stood with his arms crossed, his expression impassive.

“I’m ready for you to turn off the machines,” Castiel said firmly.

“You’re sure?” Brooks asked. “There’s no rush here. You can take all the time you need.”

“I’m sure.”

Dr. Brooks nodded and Abbie walked over to Gabriel. Castiel was standing on his opposite side, with Balthazar standing close beside him. She began pressing buttons on the IV drip, and then she moved on to the ventilator. She turned off the machine with a press of the screen, and then she detached the larger blue tube from the smaller tube that connected to Gabriel’s mouth.

“We’re going to step out and let you be with him,” she said gently. “I’ll be watching from the nurse’s station right out there, okay? We’ll be back to call a time of death.”

“We understand,” Balthazar said. He squeezed Castiel’s shoulder for a second. The nurse and doctor left, and suddenly Castiel found himself watching his brother die.

He had watched his sister die many years before, but it was a distant memory now. This was a new horror.

An eerie silence fell upon the three of them. And then, from the depths, Castiel heard the faint wheezing of his brother taking his last breaths. Gabriel’s face turned a dark shade of purple, and his body began to shake horribly. Castiel held onto Gabriel’s hands forcefully, trying to ease the tremors. To Castiel’s surprise, Gabriel’s eyes opened slightly.

“Jesus,” Balthazar muttered from behind him.

Castiel leaned forward and cradled his brother’s face with all the love he could muster.

“Gabe,” he whispered, “if you can hear me, I want you to know that I love you. And I am so very proud of you. And I am so honored to have been raised by you all these years. You were always here to protect me.” He fought to keep his eyes open, tears be damned, and he stared back at his brother. “I love you so much. I’m going to pray for you every day, okay? Every single day.” He pressed a soft kiss to Gabriel’s forehead.

_ Father God, be gentle with my brother’s soul. Grant him peace. Bestow your mercy upon him. Guide him to the life after this.  _ Castiel’s prayers were silent and frantic.

Gabriel’s body continued to shake, but the wheezing came to a halt. All at once, the shaking stopped too. The purple color in his cheeks faded to a dull red. His eyes, still slightly open, suddenly appeared dull and listless.

For several minutes, there was no sound in the room. And then, a strangled sob broke free from Castiel’s body. His knees buckled beneath him. Balthazar was quick to react; he grabbed Castiel by the arms and held him up. Castiel only continued to cry, his tears unbidden and uncontrollable.

As he stood wrapped in his cousin’s arms, a feeling of loneliness threatened to swallow him alive. His immediate family was entirely gone. No one remained other than himself.

Abbie walked back into the room quietly. She approached Gabriel and placed a stethoscope to his chest. After listening for a minute, she glanced at the watch on her wrist.

“Time of death - 17:43,” she mumbled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a medical expert, so anything that seems out of place or wrong in regards to Gabriel being taken off life support is just ignorance on my own part. This was based on my own experiences with taking my mom and brothers off life support, so it's probably not super correct as far as medical terms go.


	8. Lucid Dreams

It was yellowish in the hospital room that Gabriel stood in. The walls, the floor, even the clothes he was wearing; All were covered in a yellow light. He could see his brother being held by Balthazar, but it was like looking through a fog.

Beside him stood Dean, watching on with him.

“So this is death, huh?” he asked, his lips slanting up into a smirk.

“Hah. No,  _ I’m _ Death,” Dean replied.

“Oh wow. How long were you waiting to drop that line?” Gabriel’s eyebrows poked up quizzically.

“Longer than you might think actually.” Dean leaned back onto the wall by the door, legs crossed casually. He was gazing across the room at Castiel’s form. “I don’t meet many souls that are as sassy as you.”

Gabriel laughed at that. He shook his head in disbelief.

“You ain’t never met a spirit like me. Although I do find that hard to believe. The rate at which people die off must be astronomical. You must see spirits every few minutes.”

Dean shrugged. “I have workers for that. It’s not often that I come to personally escort a soul on its journey.”

“My oh my. What makes me so special then, my Lord?” Gabriel realized that he must sound a little hostile, but it was mostly sarcasm.

Dean tore his look away from Castiel and he turned his head to fix his gaze on Gabriel. Gabriel found himself staring into black eyes that were inscrutable, eyes that he was certain had been green only moments before.

Unbeknownst to Gabriel, this Dean looked slightly different from the way he had looked when he met Castiel. Two large, black and blue horns twisted upward from above his forehead, and his shiny black nails were most definitely  _ claws _ . Dean snickered at Gabriel, mouth pulling back to form a grin that showed too many of his teeth.

“There’s some questionable shit going on lately in regards to souls,” he said after a minute. “Some of them aren’t making it to their destinations. They just disappear. What with trying to figure out where the souls have been going, the reapers have been stretched a little thin lately, so I’m picking up the slack. I’ll tell you a little secret if it stays between us.”

“Uh, yeah, slick,” Gabriel responded. “Who else am I gonna tell?”

“There may come a time when you find yourself in a position to tell my secrets. I’m asking you not to.” The grin disappeared from Dean’s face as he continued, “One of my reapers thinks the soul snatchers would be very interested in intercepting your soul and your brother’s soul. I’m going to personally ensure that when the time comes, you both get where you need to be.”

“Where am I supposed to be?” Gabriel had not considered what exactly was going to happen next. His family had been very religious, so he believed in an afterlife. If this wasn’t evidence enough, anyway. None of what had happened so far had been mentioned in the Bible, though, so...he wasn’t sure what he believed at that moment.

“It’s up to you. You can choose to stay here, but souls that stay in this realm become demonic in nature. If that’s not gonna float your boat, you’ll be movin’ on up. To Heaven.”

Gabriel released a sigh of relief and said, “For a second, I really expected you to say I’d be moving to the eastside.”

“It crossed my mind,” Dean admitted. “What would you like to do now, chief?”

Gabriel’s eyes wandered over to Castiel. Through the fog, he could see that Castiel was sitting down now. Balthazar stood near the foot of the bed, speaking into his phone.

“Well, darling, I have to go into work so I don’t have much of a choice,” he was saying. “I don’t want him to be alone either, Meg. That’s why I’m asking if you can come bring him back to his place. We’re just waiting to sign some papers and get Gabriel’s belongings. Okay. He’s going to appreciate it very much, darling, thank you. I love you too. See you soon.”

Gabriel walked over to where Castiel was sitting, looking small and broken. Gabriel reached out through the fog, gently patting his brother on the head. He had wondered if his brother would be able to sense his presence. His thoughts were answered when Castiel’s head suddenly jerked up. Castiel looked over at Gabriel’s empty body on the bed.

“I love you too, kiddo,” Gabriel whispered. “Behave yourself.”

He turned back toward Dean. Dean was watching him with interest though he said nothing.

“Let’s get this show on the road then,” Gabriel said, sounding more confident than he felt.

As Gabriel came back to stand by him, Dean clasped Gabriel’s shoulder in a show of comradery. He steered Gabriel toward the sliding glass doors that led beyond the hospital room. In the hallway, all Gabriel could see was a bright yellow light. He glanced back at his brother and his cousin one last time before following Dean into the light.


	9. Hurt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit sex stuff in this chapter  
> minor drug use

Balthazar’s wife, Meg, had come to bring Castiel home. It turned out that dying was not so simple. There were forms to be filled out, medical bills to evaluate, an entire funeral to plan - it wasn’t so easy to just die anymore.

Balthazar had reluctantly gone to work for the evening. He probably would have stayed if Castiel hadn’t threatened to harm him for bailing on work again. He appreciated his cousin being there for him, but he was not going to allow his personal tragedy to interfere with anyone’s life anymore than it already had.

Meg was a handful, to say the least, but she was always kind to him. More importantly, she was kind to Balthazar.

The ride home felt long and arduous to Castiel. He knew it was because he was dreading finally falling asleep. He had catnapped once or twice at the hospital, but he had not truly rested. He knew he needed it, but he was afraid of the nightmares he would undoubtedly have.

Meg pulled her car into Castiel’s driveway and put it in park. Castiel made no movement, only staring at his front door with contempt. Meg touched his hand considerately.

“Listen, you can always come stay at our place,” she offered.

“You know I won’t do that,” he replied. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I do need to go home. Is it strange for me to be afraid of what’s behind my own front door?”

“If it were someone else, I’d probably say it’s weird. But you know that I think you’re incredibly weird already.”

“Thanks, Meg.” He chuckled.

“Hang on.” Meg reached into the backseat and grabbed her purse. She rustled through it for a minute before pulling out a small silver cylinder. She unscrewed the top as she said, “Hold out your hand.”

Castiel did as he was told and was rewarded with four round pills. He fixed her with a look. “Klonopin,” she said, answering his unasked question. “Take one and sleep. Put it under your tongue and let it dissolve, it’ll hit you quicker that way.”

“Are you a dealer now?” Castiel asked. She laughed and shook her head.

“Hardly. I just know how to get things.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before reaching across him and opening his door. “Get your ass inside and rest. Call me and let me know when you’ve gotten some sleep. Don’t make me come back here and check because I will.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gave her a little salute as she handed him the bag of Gabriel’s belongings. He slipped it over his wrist before exiting the car. He walked to his door slowly, fishing in his pocket for his keys. When he unlocked the door and pushed it open, he gave Meg a wave goodbye. She nodded and the car began to pull out of the driveway.

He stepped into the emptiness of his house and, after closing the door, immediately deposited the bag onto the floor by the stairs. His home was two stories; on the second floor was where his bedroom was. He thumped against the door with a sigh. He unfurled his closed fist and stared at the pills.

_ Just one. It can’t hurt. _

He placed one under his tongue and cringed at the taste.

_ Not the worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, but I've had better. _

He climbed the stairs and deposited the other three pills onto his nightstand. He looked around the room, disgusted by how bright it was. He always liked his home to be brightly lit, but now it felt wrong. He yanked the curtains closed more hastily than he intended. When the room was bathed in darkness, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into his bed.

On any other day, Castiel would have removed his clothes and cleaned his teeth before bed. He would have checked to make sure that every door and window was locked. He would have put his phone on the charger. But on that day, he was too tired to do more than take off his shoes.

He laid there, breath shaky and body too warm. He waited, and waited, for the medicine to work. When his eyes finally felt heavy, he breathed a sigh of relief. His body had already started to relax before he noticed.

_ Father God, please watch over my brother’s soul _ was the last thought Castiel had before sleep greeted him.

 

)o(

 

It was raining, hard. Castiel was sitting on the porch swing their parents had installed only a year before their deaths, his legs crossed. It was strange that his dream would put him here when he had not returned to his childhood home in many years. Not since he and Gabriel had sold it.

The air was cold. It was Castiel’s favorite type of weather. The rain gave life to everything it touched. And it could just as easily take that life away. It was the sort of thing that had fascinated him since he was a boy.

“I was hoping I would find you here,” said a deep voice from behind him. He jumped and whirled around, his heart racing. When he laid eyes on Dean, he scowled.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” he said icily.

“You didn’t have to,” Dean replied. “Other beings may need permission to enter a dream. I am not one of them. May I?” He gestured at the empty space beside Castiel on the swing.

“I suppose. Unless you’re here to reap me, too.” Castiel crossed his arms as he watched Dean sit down next to him.

“I’m not here for you,” Dean replied, letting out a small sigh. “At least not in that sense. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Castiel asked, tone incredulous.

“We all die sooner or later. In the end, I’ll even reap the Big Man himself.”

It was quiet for a moment after that. Castiel furrowed his brow, thinking.

“God is going to die one day?” he asked eventually. He unfolded his arms and turned ever so slightly to face Dean more.

“Of course,” Dean said. “No one’s truly immortal like most people think. Some of us are more powerful than others, but we’re not indestructible.”

“So it’s possible for someone to destroy God? Who would want to do that?”

“My brother, probably.” Dean’s facial expression became grim. “He’d love to take the old man down.”

“You have a brother?” Castiel was curious now. “The Grim Reaper has a brother?”

Dean smiled at him bleakly. “I have two, actually. Sam and Adam.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.  _ If he says his brother is  _ **_the_ ** _ Adam, I’m going to lose my mind. _

“Judging from the look on your face, I know what you’re thinking. No, he’s not the Adam that jump started mankind. He was just a man.”

_ Was _ , Castiel noted.

“Is he gone then?” Castiel asked. Dean nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does that mean you...did you have to reap his soul?” Again, Dean nodded. Castiel looked down at his hands, now clasped in his lap. Castiel suddenly felt like an ass for being angry with him. If Dean had had to take his own brother’s soul, it clearly wasn’t personal. “Did you take my brother’s soul, too?”

Dean looked at him with something akin to remorse. “Yes,” he said plainly. “I took him to where he needed to be.”

A cold gust of wind rippled by them. The wind felt rough on Castiel’s face. When he reached up to rub his cheeks, he was surprised to find wetness there. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

Dean saw the tears on Castiel’s face and he reached a hand up to wipe them away. Castiel immediately felt warmth where Dean touched him, and he found himself leaning into the touch. His lips brushed against Dean’s palm, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were there for Gabriel?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

Dean’s hand stilled though it continued to cradle Castiel’s face. Dean replied, “Would it have made a difference to you?”

“...I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I could have stopped him or -- I don’t know.”

“The fact that you think you could have stopped it is why I didn’t tell you,” Dean said with a sigh. “It was Gabriel’s time. It hurts you, I see that. And I’m sorry that it hurts you so much. But I had a job to do, Cas. It’s shitty sometimes but I have to take care of these souls.”

_ He called me Cas. _

Castiel didn’t have much more than a second to think about Dean calling him by that name. There was a strange tune flowing in from a distance. High and low pitched pings floated in over the breeze. It was reminiscent of a wind chime.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked.

“It sounds like my ringtone, actually,” Castiel said. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible, honestly. I guess someone is blowing up your phone. Would you like me to wake you?”

Castiel shook his head. He looked at Dean thoughtfully, enjoying the feeling of Dean’s hand against him. He allowed himself a moment to take in Dean’s figure; the broad shoulders and the pretty lips and the stubble on his cheeks.

“You called me Cas. Who taught you to call me that?” he asked suddenly, remembering what he had wanted to say.

Dean’s hand fell away timidly. “Your brother did,” he answered. He chuckled then. “Actually, he told me to address you as Cassie. But that seemed a little too personal. Seemed like the sorta thing one brother would say to another to get on his nerves.”

Castiel stared, willing his tears not to spill over. Hearing this man - this creature - call him by his nickname made something stir in his belly. He unfurled his legs and scooted close to Dean until he was almost in Dean’s lap. Dean looked slightly surprised.

“You’re not my brother,” Castiel stated. Dean’s hand was at Castiel’s waist; he could tell by the warmth there. Castiel moved to straddle Dean’s lap, and he slid his own hands up to touch both sides of Dean’s neck.

“No, I’m not your brother,” Dean said after a minute. He gazed up into dark blue eyes.

“You can still call me Cas if you’d like.” Castiel pressed himself up against Dean and kissed him softly. Dean’s grip on him tightened before he slid both arms around Castiel. He started to grind his hips up, eliciting a low moan from Castiel. “Will you call me Cas as you fuck me?”

Dean groaned as Castiel pushed his hips down against Dean’s groin. “I’ll call you whatever you want.” He kissed Castiel hungrily, hands wandering underneath Castiel’s sweater. The warmth that Dean’s body gave off when Castiel’s bare skin touched his made Castiel want to hum with contentment.

Castiel continued to grind his hips against Dean’s, each time pulling a moan from between Dean’s lips. The friction was good, but he could tell that Dean wanted more. Dean began massaging Castiel’s ass through his jeans.

Castiel pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and trailed down to Dean’s neck, where he sucked roughly. Dean hissed as Castiel continued working on his neck.

“Fuck, Cas, please,” he begged.

“What do you want?” Castiel whispered, pulling his lips off Dean’s skin. He sat back on Dean’s lap and palmed at Dean’s erection. “Do you want to touch me?”

“Please,” Dean said again. “Let me feel how good you are.”

Castiel unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down to his thighs. His own erection was being held back by his boxer briefs. Dean reached one hand forward to caress Castiel’s cock through the underwear. Castiel moaned unabashedly, and he guided Dean’s other hand to his backside. Dean, taking the hint, pulled the underwear down with one hand, the other continuing to tease Castiel until his dick sprung free. When Dean’s hand touched Castiel’s bare cock, Castiel found himself bucking his hips.

“Can I ride you, Dean?” he asked in a guttural voice.

“Fuck, yes, please.”

Castiel unbuckled Dean’s pants without anymore stalling and he yanked them down along with Dean’s boxers. He stood for a brief moment, removed his bottom clothes fully, then repositioned himself across Dean’s lap. He spent about thirty seconds trying to decide what he should do without any lubricant or prep, and then he shook his head.

_ It’s a dream, right? I can do whatever I want. _

He was prepared to feel pain after the lack of stretching, but instead he felt only fullness. He sank down slowly on Dean’s cock, letting out a moan inch by inch. Dean was kissing any part of Castiel he could get his mouth to. When Castiel bottomed out, Dean groaned into his skin obscenely.

Castiel allowed himself a minute to breathe before he began to move up and down.

“Aah, fuck Cas, fuck,” Dean muttered. He gripped Castiel’s hips roughly as he bucked up into Castiel’s tight hole. Each time Castiel slammed himself down, Dean matched it by ramming his own hips up. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck to pull himself closer to Dean’s chest, and he kissed him greedily, moaning loudly into Dean’s mouth each time Dean’s cock hit him just right.

The sound of skin on skin was pornographic; it was the only thing Castiel heard around them aside from Dean’s low moans and the sound of the swing groaning beneath their weight.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, “Stroke your dick for me. Pump your cock until you’re cumming all over us both.”

He shuddered at Dean’s request. “Anything you want, Dean.” Castiel obeyed, one hand stroking himself intensely. It was almost too much for a moment, the feeling of friction on his dick in addition to the fullness of Dean’s cock inside him. And then it simultaneously wasn’t enough. “Fuck me like you mean it, Reaper.”

Dean chuckled and began to fuck into Castiel harder. Castiel stroked himself in time to each of Dean’s thrusts. As Castiel teetered on the edge of orgasm, Dean pressed his mouth against Castiel’s neck and bit down hard. He sucked Castiel’s skin in between his teeth, thrusting harder with each suck. That was what pushed Castiel over the edge.

Castiel screamed Dean’s name when he barreled into his orgasm. Dean bit down even harder as Castiel came, heat spreading between them as Castiel’s cum spurted onto his and Dean’s stomachs. Castiel’s body clenched around Dean’s cock, and Dean spilled into Castiel’s ass.

He continued to rut into Castiel for a moment longer, riding out his orgasm. He slowed down and moved his lips up to Castiel’s, kissing him lazily. Castiel smiled into their kiss, his body content as he leaned into Dean’s arms.

“Is this the real reason you showed up in my dream?” he asked. Dean let out a low laugh, his hands rubbing small circles into Castiel’s skin.

“No. This was a pleasant surprise,” Dean responded. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never done sex before or you’ve never done it in a dream before?”

Dean pinched Castiel’s side. “Very funny. I had sex a few times in my old life. But I’ve never had sex in all the centuries I’ve been me, as I am now. If that makes sense.”

Castiel looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

“It makes no sense,” he said. “You’re a good looking...man or whatever you are. Why wouldn’t you have had sex before now?”

“Aha...this is what I look like when I’m trying to impress you. I look a little more devilish when I’m not using this disguise.”

“You what? This is a disguise?” Castiel’s face was a map of confusion.

“No no,” Dean said hastily. “I mean, this is my basic layout. But I have, you know, horns.” He gestured above his head, tracing an outline where his horns normally sat. “I’ll show you next time.”

Castiel was opening his mouth to comment on there being a next time, but before he could speak he was silenced by a loud screeching. The screeching changed into an overbearing pounding sound. Castiel covered his hands with his ears and shut his eyes.

It suddenly felt as if the world was falling from beneath him. Panicked, his eyes shot open and he shouted “Dean!” before everything cut to black.


	10. Chasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of past self-harm and suicide

Castiel felt like he had been hurtling through a blank space and landed somewhere hard. His eyes opened and he sat up in bed, frantic, heart pounding. It was dark but he could see the outline of his bedroom. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

There was a pounding noise coming from downstairs. The pounding stopped, and then the doorbell rang. The banging started up again.

“Who the hell?” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He got up from his bed, a little disgruntled. It had definitely been a good dream.

He wandered into the hallway outside his bedroom and flicked on the stairway light. The doorbell rang again.

“I’ll be right there!” he shouted. He trotted down the stairs slower than usual. His body felt sluggish.

When he reached the first floor, he turned on the porch light before opening the door.

“WHERE have you BEEN?!”

“Hello, Balthazar.”

Balthazar stood in front of him, one hand holding a bag of something, the other hand on his hip. Castiel motioned for him to come inside. He stood back and allowed Balthazar entry before closing the door.

“It’s too dark in here, Cassie, are you training to be a vampire?” Balthazar walked over to the kitchen, turning on various lights as he went. Castiel followed him blearily. Balthazar set the bag on the counter then he whirled around to face Castiel. “You look like shit.”

“I can always count on you for kind words,” Castiel replied in a snarky tone.

“I apologize.” Balthazar turned back to the bag and began to remove food from it. “I called to ask what you wanted, but you didn’t answer. Meg tried calling before me and you didn’t answer then either. I was very worried, Cas, I’m sorry.”

“I was sleeping.”

“That thought crossed my mind but I was also afraid you might have killed yourself.”

Castiel fixed him with a weary gaze. “It’s been a long time since I tried anything like that.”

“I know, I know. I just meant that given the circumstance, I was scared when you didn’t answer.”

Castiel’s grumpy demeanor began to soften. Balthazar was right. It had been at least six years since Castiel had attempted to kill himself, and he knew that something like this would have anyone concerned about a relapse in mental state.

He sat on a stool by the bar that bordered his kitchen.

“So what is there to eat?” he asked.

“I’m glad you asked. Get ready for…” Balthazar drummed his fingers on the counter “...tacos!!! And in the other container, more tacos! And some chips.”

“Is it Tuesday?” Castiel asked, glancing at the calendar on the wall.

“Technically it is now, yes. You slept a good chunk of the night.”

Balthazar grabbed some plates and began putting food onto them. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and set everything down on the bar. He took a seat beside Castiel while he opened the beers.

“To Gabriel Novak,” he said, raising his bottle in the air. Castiel smiled and raised his beer as well. “My brother in spirit, as are you. I love you both.”

“Cheers,” Castiel managed to say. They clinked their bottles together and each took a swig.

Castiel took a chug that was much deeper than he had intended. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure when he had eaten last or had anything to drink for that matter. Balthazar chuckled at him before pulling his phone out to check something.

Castiel chewed on his food mindlessly while he thought about the dream he had been having. If he hadn’t encountered Dean three separate times now, he would think he was going insane.

_ It’s still possible that I am, I guess, _ he thought.

His free hand wandered to a sore spot on his neck. He smirked when he remembered that Dean had bitten him there in the dream.

“Does your neck hurt?” Balthazar asked, cutting through his thoughts. Castiel stuttered as he responded.

“Oh, you know, just a muscle ache I think,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. Balthazar looked concerned, not buying the act.

“It looks like you have a bruise there. What did you do?”

“A what?” Castiel stood and walked over to the mirror that hung in his living room. He pulled his sweater down some and saw that there was indeed a bruise.

_ Or, you know, a hickey, _ he realized.

“Castiel,” Balthazar said from where he sat. “Did you do that to yourself?”

“Of course not!” Castiel responded, his voice holding more heat than he intended.

Balthazar and Gabriel were the only ones who had ever known about Castiel’s self-harm and the suicide attempt. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Balthazar would assume the worst, but when he thought about it, he understood. He could only imagine how it looked. Gabriel passes away and Castiel locks himself up at home to hurt himself. Wonderful.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said. “I know how it must seem but I assure you it’s not that. I’ll let you know if it gets bad again. I promise.”

Balthazar said nothing for a long moment before he finally responded. “Okay. I had to ask. I don’t mean that I think you’re falling off again. I just had to check.” He patted the stool next to him. “Come finish eating and I’ll get out of your hair.”

The rest of the meal was filled with jovial conversation and in between talks, Balthazar had plenty of internet things he wanted to show Castiel. Bee news and animal videos and Reddit posts. Things that he knew would distract Castiel. Castiel didn’t mind the distraction in the least.

When Castiel walked Balthazar to the door, his cousin stood still for a moment and gave him a serious look.

“I’m going to keep coming by as long as you’ll let me, okay?” he said. “I know you don’t like it when someone hovers over you but what you’re going through right now -- it’s shitty, Cas. To say the least. Look at me telling you like you don’t already know. I just need to check in and see if you’re still here. Think you can put up with that?”

Castiel rolled his eyes affectionately. “Yes sir, I can manage. Now go home. Your wife is waiting for you.”

Balthazar nodded then embraced him briefly. “I’ll be by tomorrow. At the very least, Meg will be by. I know how much you love her company.”

This time, Castiel rolled his eyes in exasperation. He waved goodbye to Balthazar and closed the door. When he heard his cousin’s car start, he locked the deadbolt then went back upstairs.

In his room, he shed his clothes and tossed them into the hamper. He looked at the pills on the nightstand, considered them, then took one more.


	11. Pray For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil bitty mention of some oxy in this chapter.

Castiel didn’t dream again that night. He woke up in the afternoon, showered, then slipped into some sweatpants. He had no intention of dealing with the world yet.

When he finally decided to wander down the steps, he realized that he had left Gabriel’s belongings down there. His stomach turned as he looked at it. A sense of dread was creeping up on him. He picked up the bag and retreated to his room.

He opened it and the first thing he saw was his bottle of pain meds. He wasn’t sure when he put those in there. Then again, he didn’t remember much of what he had done while he waited out the forty-eight hours. He placed the bottle on his night stand.

He smelled Gabriel’s cologne before he even touched his clothes. He inhaled deeply, a small smile forming on his face when he remembered that he had bought that particular cologne for his brother. Gabriel had complained that it wasn’t “sexy man enough”. How on Earth did Castiel expect him to pick up any girls with this smell?

But the next day, after a successful night of getting laid, Gabriel had changed his tune.

Castiel laughed as he pulled his brother’s shirt from the bag. He knew that underneath that he would find the khaki pants Gabriel hated wearing. He only wore them because Castiel told him it would seem more professional. It was that or black slacks, which is what Gabriel preferred to wear. He hadn’t done laundry right before the accident, though, so he had been stuck wearing his khakis.

_ Stuck wearing them for eternity, I guess, _ Castiel realized grimly. Underneath the sadness, he almost wanted to laugh at the image of Gabriel being stuck in khakis for the entirety of his afterlife. He could only imagine the indignant look Gabriel would have on his face.

Castiel ran his hands over the fabric of the shirt, fingers catching on the buttons. He squinted his eyes and looked closer at a stain he hadn’t noticed before. It was dark and blossomed out from the top of the shoulder. In a moment of horrific clarity, he realized that it was blood. He dropped the shirt as though it were on fire. It landed on top of the bag, making it emit a small crinkling sound. Castiel’s hands were shaking; his skin felt cold and sweaty.

“It’s just blood, Castiel, calm down,” he told himself. He tried to pick up the shirt again, but the mental image of his brother laid out on the pavement, blood leaking down his face, made him recoil. He kicked the bag off his bed before pulling his legs up to his chest, folding in on himself.

It had been a while since he had had a panic attack, but he could feel it coming. He tried to calm his breathing, force himself to take longer, slower breaths, but he only succeeded in irritating himself.

He reached over to the bedside table and picked up a Klonopin. He grabbed an OxyContin from the bottle of pills as well. He set the two under his tongue and waited for them to dissolve. He remembered a friend of Meg’s telling him that taking medicine like that together could enhance the effects. In a panic attack, he wasn’t willing to risk the benzo not working correctly.

His eyes were closed once he had closed his mouth; he wasn’t sure if that would help or make it worse, but he was afraid of opening them. He held onto his legs as if his life depended on it.

The trickiest part of panic attacks, for Castiel, had always been the hallucinations. It was like a terrible hallucinogen trip. He had tried to explain to his last therapist what the hallucinations were like, but she had decided it must mean he was schizophrenic. He stopped telling any of his doctors about it after that.

The pills were bitter tasting in his mouth. He was still fighting to get his breath under control.

One breath in while counting to seven, hold it while counting to seven, one breath out while counting to seven. That was a trick Gabe had taught him as a kid.

As he breathed in, he tried to identify as many smells as he could.

_ Cologne. Fresh sheets. Lotion on my hands. _

He repeated his mantra several times, attempting to ground himself.

After a few minutes that felt like years, he could feel his breathing start to normalize. He dared to open his eyes finally.

Distantly, he heard the sound of barking. It sounded like it was right outside his house. He hopped up from the bed and moved quickly to his door, slamming it shut.

From the corner of his eye, he swore he had seen someone move. When he turned around quickly in that direction, the shadow was gone.

_ It’s not there. It isn’t real. _

He walked back to his bed, every part of him shaking. As he climbed back into it, he could swear he heard the front door slam open.

The barking seemed not so distant now. He covered his head with a pillow and screamed.


	12. Royalty inside my DNA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence in this chapter  
> also what i guess you could consider violence against an animal

Dean was standing in an open field. In a small circle around him, the grass was green. Beyond that circle, the grass was dull and yellow. The sky was dark grey. The clouds were swollen with rain, and Dean could smell malevolence in the air.

Standing on the opposite side of the large area was a tall figure dressed in a white and silver suit. His hair fell down past his face in smooth waves, some of it pulled back in a half-ponytail. He wore a gold ring on his middle finger, which was shiny even in the sun’s absence. As the figure walked closer, he spoke with a smirk on his face.

“Hello brother,” he said, stopping only when he was nearly toe to toe with Dean. The grass around them lost all color completely as he stood still. When Dean looked behind the man, he could see the trail where the man had walked based on the dead grass left behind.

“Sam,” he replied curtly.

“It has been quite some time,” Sam said snidely. “Are you not happy to see me, big brother? Hug me.”

Dean bristled, his mouth forming a snarl. His lips pulled back slightly to expose sharp canines. Sam leaned forward, his arms outstretched. Dean stood still, and Sam pouted at him. He lowered his arms slower than necessary.

“What do you want, Sam?” he asked, barely managing to contain the venom in his voice. “If you’re here about the Novak soul, it already reached Heaven safely.”

“That’s what I heard through the grapevine, yes. I thought I would come to you directly. You know how gossipy we Angels can be.” Sam gave him a wink. Dean’s stomach turned.

The ease with which Sam now called himself an angel was disheartening for Dean.

It was harder than he would ever admit, standing this close to Sam, knowing that it was no longer truly his brother. This Sam was a warped, freak show version of the Sam he had watched over all his life.

“Do you think the younger Novak brother will be able to escape me as well?” Sam asked, his voice low and teasing. “How will you be able to hide him from me if my Hellhounds have already found him?”

Dean could feel the way his skin paled. His black eyes stared at his brother, who looked back with unblinking golden eyes.

“You can’t control Hellhounds,” Dean replied. “Even if you could, there’s no point in caging his soul. You think torturing him is gonna make him cop a deal with you? Don’t be so fucking stupid.”

“Broken souls are the ones willing to do anything to make this world a better place. You should know that better than anyone, Dean.” Sam patted Dean on the shoulder roughly. Dean grabbed Sam by the wrist and pushed his arm away.

“Hands off, Sammy,” he barked. His nickname for his younger brother hung in the air heavily. He winced at his own slip of the tongue. Sam’s eyes widened, and for the first time he looked surprised.

“I knew there was still some sort of affection there,” he said after a pause. “It will make it marginally harder to do what must be done.”

Dean felt hot rage burning within his chest. He knew that Sam had an interest in the Novak bloodline, but he didn’t know the obsession was this deep. Dean himself knew he had no claim over Cas, but he would be damned before he let Sam taint Castiel’s soul. He had lost enough souls to his brother already. This one was especially important.

Dean took a step back, preparing himself to leave since this conversation was going nowhere, when he was blindsided by an attack from Sam. Sam flicked one hand in Dean’s direction, and Dean was sent flying across the field. It felt as though something had actually grabbed him by the horns and tossed him. His head was aching.

He rolled several times before stopping on his side. He wheezed heavily as he caught his breath, and then he stood as quickly as he could, ignoring the ache in his head.

“Were you caught off guard, brother?” Sam hollered while he waltzed toward Dean.

Dean wiped a hand across his face, rubbing away the dirt.

“In your dreams,” he responded. “I do need to be going, though. This was as pleasant as always.”

“But I haven’t showed you all my new tricks yet!” Sam’s voice was whiny, momentarily overriding the otherwise formal tone. “Let me show you the things my newest pets can do.”

Dean was more curious than confused. He wanted to ask for clarification, but then he remembered Sam’s comment about the Hellhounds. Surely Sam had just been bluffing. The only one who could control the Hellhounds was the King of the Crossroads.

Sam motioned to the space behind Dean. That was when Dean heard it -- a low, animalistic growl from behind. He heard the sound of lips being licked; it made him shiver. He turned to face the creature, but before he could prepare himself he was bowled over.

The actual attack was a blur. Dean felt the dog more than he saw it. It was standing on top of him, snapping its jaws inches from his face. Dean was holding it back with his arms crossed in front of himself like a barricade. Its breath was rancid. Its claws dug into Dean’s arms mercilessly.

“This is the smaller one,” Sam boasted. “Imagine how much fun the Novak boy must be having right now with the bigger one.”

Dean froze up for a split second when he heard Sam mention Cas. With renewed force, he shoved the dog away before he sent it flying at Sam. His brother was not the only one who could use magic.

He waved his arm broadly in Sam’s direction, sending chains flying at him. The chains appeared out of thin air; they weren’t as strong as they could be, but Dean was only looking to distract Sam for a moment. Sam roared as the chains wound themselves around his arms and legs. Dean waved his other arm behind him, pulling a portal into existence. The Hellhound stood uncertainly between the two of them, wavering between helping its master or attacking Dean.

“Later, Sam,” Dean mumbled as he entered the portal. He felt it close behind him. Momentarily, he was certain that he could still hear Sam’s angry roar.

The space between worlds was always a little disorienting. It was darkness all around him, swallowing him whole. He searched for the small light that would lead him out of here.

In the distance, he saw it. It was blue, and faint, but he knew it was where he needed to go. He rushed toward it. When he was close enough, he touched it with one claw; it burst, opening another portal in front of him. He stepped through it without hesitation.

On the other side, the sun was shining bright in the afternoon sky. He found himself standing on a house porch. The door to the house was wide open. Under ordinary circumstances, the house would have looked harmless. But Dean saw claw marks etched into the wood.

_Fuck me_ , he thought.

He ran into the house, closing the door behind himself. He took a moment to trace a sigil into the door using his claws. After he traced it, he dipped his claw into the blood that was lightly dripping from the wounds in his arms. Using the blood soaked claw, he retraced the sigil.

He could hear the Hellhound barking at the top of the stairs, and then he heard a scream.

“Cas!” he shouted, sprinting up the stairs. Castiel made no response. The screaming only continued.

When Dean was two steps from the top of the stairs, he saw the Hellhound crouched outside of Cas’s door. It turned to look at him, its blood-drenched skin prickling up as it growled at him. Its eyes were red slits. No pupils, only red irises.

“You guys are some ugly sons of bitches,” Dean said as the dog lunged at him. Dean sank one set of claws into the animal’s neck. It wailed in pain and fury, kicking at Dean with all four legs. Dean lifted the dog up and tossed it backward over his shoulder. Sam was right about one this: this one was definitely bigger than the other dog. He heard a loud THUMP! as it landed, but he didn’t look back. He finished climbing the stairs and shoved the bedroom door open.

Inside the bedroom, curled up under the pillows, was Cas. His hands were gripping the pillow he was using to cover his face. Dean approached him carefully.

“Heya Cas,” Dean said, hoping not to spook him. Cas’s body stopped shaking momentarily. Slowly, Cas pulled the pillow away from himself. He looked up at Dean, his face showing disbelief.

“Dean?” he whispered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dean replied. Cas sat up fully, and he reached for Dean. Dean welcomed the touch; it was only Cas’s hand touching his side, but it was enough.

“How did you find me?” Cas asked.

“It’s a sort of long story. I’ll explain it as soon as I can, but right n--” Dean was cut off as something crashed into him. It hit him with full force, cracking his body up against the wall and over the nightstand.

“Fucking HELLHOUNDS,” he hollered as he kicked at the thing. It sank its teeth into his side and it yanked, ripping his skin and muscle as it did so. Dean bellowed with pain. Its teeth felt even bigger than they looked.

Dean punched it in the nose as he simultaneously let out a howl of annoyance. It was dazed for a moment. In that moment, Dean grabbed the Hellhound by the neck and twisted, hard. There was a sickening CRACK! as its neck snapped.

Dean stood still, panting and pressing his hand against the hole in his side.

“D-Dean?” came a timid voice from the bed. Dean looked over and saw Cas looking fearful.

“Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just a scratch.”

All at once, Dean’s vision was swimming and he barely registered that he was falling forward. His eyes rolled up in his head, and then he collapsed onto the floor.


	13. Hostage

Castiel stared around the room, trying to understand what he was looking at. There was what appeared to be a dead dog on the floor, and crumpled up beside his bed was what appeared to be Dean. This Dean had long horns and sharp claws, but he was Dean alright. As Castiel stared at Dean, he realized that the wound Dean had been trying to cover was leaking a large amount of blood.

He jumped up from the bed and ran to his bathroom. He searched the cabinets frantically, trying to get his hands on any sort of towel. He found a large white one and grabbed it. He grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol from beneath the sink and ran back into his room.

Dean was breathing at least, but Castiel knew that fainting was still not a good sign. He knelt beside Dean’s limp body and took a moment to look at the wound as he pulled Dean’s shirt up to expose it. It was wide and the edges were jagged. He pressed the folded towel to the wound as hard as he could, despite being afraid he would hurt Dean if there was too much pressure. Dean did not stir.

Castiel looked over at the dog. It wasn’t any sort of dog he had ever seen before. It smelled like something rotting, and it was a massive creature. It looked more like a tiny bear than a dog, now that he looked closer. What was it Dean had screamed as the thing had tackled him?

“...Hellhound,” he muttered. “What the actual fuck does that even mean?”

He looked back to the towel beneath his hands and was somewhat surprised to see that it was nearly soaked through. Most of all, he was amazed that the blood was a deep shade of violet. He peeled the towed off the wound carefully. Furthermore, the wound appeared to have stopped its bleeding.

Castiel picked up the bottle of alcohol and uncapped it. He wasn’t sure if this would even matter to a creature like Dean, but if the Hellhound’s mouth was as toxic as the rest of it smelled, he didn’t want to risk it. He poured it carefully over the wound, making sure to cover every inch of it. As the alcohol spilled over the wound, he caught the excess with the towel.

Suddenly, Dean began to stir. He was making a low whining sound, and his arms were twitching. Castiel set the bottle down just as Dean suddenly shot up, eyes wide and glowing red. He grabbed Castiel’s wrist and jerked him close, his lips pulled back in an aggressive snarl.

“Dean, let go of me!” Castiel shouted. He tried to jerk his arm away but Dean’s grip was too strong. “Hey!”

Dean was glaring at him, but he didn’t think Dean was actually seeing him. Dean had made no move other than to grab him by the wrist. He was unmoving, a steady growl coming from his mouth. Unsure if this behavior was a side effect of the Hellhound’s bite, Castiel did the only thing he could think of. He dropped the towel from his hand and slapped Dean across the face.

Castiel waited with baited breath, afraid he had just made a grave mistake. A few seconds passed before Dean let out a shaky breath. He blinked several times as the red began to fade from his eyes, leaving only the solid black color behind.

“Cas?” he croaked. He looked to his hand gripping Castiel’s wrist and let go hurriedly. He saw the blood on Castiel’s hand. “Christ, did I do that to you?”

“No no, this is your blood,” Castiel assured him. He held up the soiled towel. “Yours. I was trying to stop the bleeding.”

Dean looked more confused as he looked from the towel to the wound on his side. His eyes wandered to the Hellhound and he muttered, “Shit. That big son of a bitch.” He winced as he leaned against the wall. He stood slowly, his face scrunched in pain. “It hasn’t moved, has it?”

Castiel shook his head. “What is it exactly?” he asked.

Dean straightened his shirt before he replied, “A Hellhound. They usually just guard cemeteries and the gates to Hell. The King of the Crossroads has been using them for a few decades now to run his errands. He’s a douchebag.”

“Is he the one that sent this one?”

“Noooo, afraid not. My brother sent this one.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose as he threw the towel into the bathroom. “I thought your brother passed away?”

“Adam is dead. My other brother Sam is not. Sam is an Archangel. It’s...it’s complicated.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. He waved one hand at the Hellhound and it was covered in a black mist before it disappeared. He motioned to the bed. “Is it okay if I sit there?”

“Of course,” Castiel replied. Dean smiled appreciatively as he sank onto the bed with a sigh. Castiel sat beside Dean gingerly. There were several things happening simultaneously in his mind. An Archangel brother. A Hellhound whose dead body just disappeared. Not to mention the wound that must be hurting like -- well, Hell.

“Dean,” he said, “Not that I don’t appreciate you showing up out of nowhere to save me from that thing. But how did you find me? How did  _ it _ find me for that matter?”

Dean closed his eyes, head pressed against the headboard, fingers tapping against his knee nervously. “I’m not sure how it found you, to be honest. I only followed its trail. I put a protection ward on the door. It should keep the house hidden, but it’s an elementary spell. If Sam pushes hard enough, he’ll find it somehow. It’ll do for now though.”

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, who looked back with uncertainty. He held one hand out to him on the bed. Castiel intertwined his fingers with Dean’s as he sat closer.

“Why would your brother send a Hellhound to my house?” he asked Dean.

“Ah...that’s sort of complicated, too, I guess,” was the response. Dean ran his claws up and down Castiel’s arm absentmindedly. He grew quiet, and his expression was one of intense thought. “I’m sorry. That’s not really an answer. Sam wants your soul. He believes your bloodline is important to his storyline. He missed out on getting Gabriel’s soul, and he wants you now. I can’t allow that. Like I said, it’s a complex situation. It requires you to put a lot of trust in me, which may not be easy for you. But I won’t let Sam have you.”

“Is that because I’m extremely handsome, or is something bad going to happen if he has my soul?” Castiel gave him a small smile as he spoke. Dean chuckled appreciatively.

“Both. Definitely both.” He sat forward, letting go of Castiel’s hand in order to balance himself. “I’m not trying to be cryptic. I want to explain fully. Can we grab something to eat first?”

“You, uh, you eat? Food?”

“I love food. It’s not necessary but I’ve had a shitty day. Food is comforting to me. You think Death doesn’t do normal things like you do?”

“Um, no? I mean I’ve never really thought about it but I don’t think I ever thought about whether or not the Grim Reaper likes steak.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “I do, actually. I know a place. Do you drive? If you don’t, I can get my car.”

Castiel had stood from the bed and he was reaching for his bottle of OxyContin when Dean mentioned the car. He froze with his hand on the bottle, and he fixed Dean with an incredulous look.

“You have a car?” he asked plainly.

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not everyone is literally Death.” He took another pill from the bottle and placed it under his tongue. “I have a car. I just took another Oxy so I might not be good to drive but you can drive it.”

Castiel could feel his body was a little more relaxed from the medicine he had taken during the panic attack, but this day was only getting stranger. I can handle another, he reasoned.

He waved for Dean to follow him as he went down the stairs. He found his keys resting on a hook beside the front door. He wiggled them at Dean as he slipped on his shoes and opened the door.

They walked out of the house right behind one another. Castiel paused to lock the door, and when he turned around he realized that Dean’s horns had disappeared. As he walked toward Dean, he saw that Dean’s eyes were once again that bright shade of green. Dean smiled at him while he stood motionless, suddenly in awe of the man before him.

Maybe it was the drugs, but Castiel could have sworn that Dean was almost shining. Dean pulled him suddenly closer, hand squeezing the small of his back.

“Why are you staring like that?” he asked with a nervous grin. Castiel snaked his arms up and crossed them behind Dean’s neck.

“I was admiring how beautiful you are.” Castiel looked up at him, taking note of the freckles littered across the bridge of his nose; the small crinkles by his eyes. Dean pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

“Come on, Cas, let me treat you to a steak,” he said as he started to pull away. Castiel pulled him back, burying his face into Dean’s chest. He inhaled deeply, taking in that scent of marshmallow, and he exhaled slowly. Dean’s arms came to rest around him, holding him in a comforting embrace. For a brief moment, Castiel felt that the world was going to swallow him up. And then Dean gave another kiss to the top of his head. He found himself smiling into Dean’s shirt.

He lifted his head up and kissed Dean deliberately. Dean sighed into his mouth. Castiel made a noise so soft that it was almost a purr.

“Hmm, the last time you kissed me like this, it got me into more than just a kiss,” Dean murmured. He pulled Castiel’s head back gently, fingers tugging on his hair, and kissed him again. “I can’t bend you over and fuck you the way I want to until this wound is healed more. Give me an hour or so. By the time we’re done with dinner, I promise.”

Castiel smiled then nodded. Dean rewarded him with another kiss before they pulled apart. Castiel climbed into the passenger side of the car and settled in for the ride.


	14. OTW

The ride to the restaurant was filled with idle banter. Castiel enjoyed listening to Dean talk. He didn’t speak like someone who had existed for hundreds of years, but the vibes that radiated off of him were almost overwhelming. It made Castiel wonder what could be so interesting about his own family that beings such as Dean wanted to get involved with them.

The steakhouse was large and moderately occupied. The host spoke to Dean with familiarity.

“You haven’t graced us with your presence in a minute,” he noted. The man was tall and husky, dressed in a black and dark red suit. His speech was somewhat accented; Castiel guessed Haitian. “A table for two, sire?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Krim,” Dean replied. “Two it is.”

Krim gave Castiel a courteous smile before he scribbled something down in a notebook. He grabbed two menus and gestured for them to follow him. They were seated in a small booth. Krim set the menus down in front of them.

“Shall I inform Kali that you’re here?” he asked, eyes fixed on Dean.

“I won’t tell you not to,” Dean responded. “Tell her there’s no rush, I’m here with a date.”

Krim nodded at him then left. Castiel grinned as he picked up the menu and began to browse it.

“So...we’re on a date, huh?” he said after perusing the menu for a second. Dean chuckled in response. “How often do you bring dates here?”

“You’re the first, I assure you,” Dean replied. A waitress came by to get their drink orders. She made small talk with Dean for a moment before getting their order and departing to get the drinks. “The owner of this restaurant is a woman named Kali. She’s a fellow Horseman. You might have heard of the four of us.”

Castiel stilled and the menu slipped from his hand a bit.

Horseman, he had said. Horse. Man.

“You can’t be serious,” Castiel said, his voice holding no trace of amusement.

“Afraid so,” Dean replied. The waitress returned with their drinks. Dean nodded for Castiel to order, and when it was his turn he ordered an absurd amount of food. Dean gave her an award winning smile as she collected their menus and left once more.

Castiel sipped his drink slowly, eyes glued to Dean. Dean took a sip of his drink as well before continuing.

“I’m the Fourth Horseman, obviously,” he said while he set his drink down. He was counting on his fingers as he spoke. “Kali is the third. Benny is the second. Bela is the first. Each one of us holds a ring that is specific to each Horseman. On the day that God commands it, we’re supposed to use our rings to start the Apocalypse. My brother thinks that it’s a rigged match if we Horsemen start it. He wants to circumvent God’s plan by jumpstarting the Apocalypse with his own players.”

“Why does your brother care who starts the Apocalypse? Didn’t you say he’s an Archangel? Isn’t he...you know, rebelling by not obeying God’s command?” This conversation was only starting to confuse Castiel more.

Dean’s face took on a pained expression. “My brother has only been an Archangel for a little while. He used to be a Reaper.”

“Say what now? A reaper?”

“Yeah...I told you, it’s ridiculously complicated in some ways. My brother was  _ a _ reaper, but I’m  _ the _ Reaper. It’s sort of like being the general of your own army. Lucifer had been defeated by this asshole named Metatron, and I sent Sam to get his soul. Well, just my luck, Lucifer offered Sam a deal. He’d give Sam all his power, and Sam would carry on Lucifer’s mission. Guess which option my brother picked?”

Castiel allowed this information to sink in while Dean paused to take another sip.

He thought it over. So the Grim Reaper was sitting in front of him. The Grim Reaper was also one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But everyone knew that. But a lower level Reaper becoming an angel? That was definitely not something they taught him about in Sunday school.

“So...where do I fit into all of this?” he asked finally.

“Prepare yourself for more bullshit,” was Dean’s response. “Some believe that there are direct descendants of the Prophets walking the earth, unaware that they’re walking around with such royal blood in their veins. My brother believes that you are a descendant of one of those bloodlines.”

“You’re lying. Tell me this is all a lie.”

Dean gazed at him sympathetically. He rubbed Castiel’s hand softly. Castiel was getting ready to say something else but they were abruptly interrupted by a tan woman with wavy hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a tight dress that was a deep shade of burgundy. When she moved, the bangles on her wrists made a clanging sound. In her hands she carried a plate of food. As she stood there, Castiel caught a whiff of roses.

“I heard you were here to bless us with your presence Dean,” she said as she set the plate down. Her voice was sultry. “I know you made quite the order, but I figured you would have enough appetite for some crawfish bread.”

Dean put a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’re always out to win me over, aren’t you?” he asked, a smile playing on his face. “Castiel, this is Kali. Restaurant owner and Goddess of all things food. Kali, this is Castiel.”

Kali gave him a warm smile. She held a hand out to him, and Castiel shook it firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I hope at least half of that food is for you. I love when new customers get to taste a variety of our dishes. So don’t let him hog it all.”

“Ah, leave me alone,” Dean scolded. “I’m trying to regain my strength. I’ve got a pretty nasty wound. I was hoping Benny would be here somewhere, actually. See if he’s got any of that voodoo magic he can use to make it better.”

“Mm, he might be in the office. You know how these men are. They never just go home and rest.” She winked at him, and Dean rolled his eyes in return. “Before I call him, tell me if what I heard is true.”

She sat down in the booth next to Dean. Dean scooted down to give her a little room, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth as he did so. He offered a piece to Castiel, which Castiel accepted.

“The word on the street is that you got that wound from a Hellhound your brother sent after you,” Kali said. “Is it true he can command the hounds?”

“It’s true that Sam attacked me, yeah. I don’t know if it was a real Hellhound but it was pretty damn big. And it was  _ not _ there to cuddle with me.”

Kali laughed gently. She took a piece of the bread and chewed on it, letting out a contented hum.

“He outdid himself with this recipe, you know,” she commented.

“Is there ever a recipe Benny makes that you don’t like?” Dean asked, munching on another piece.

“I didn’t like the alligator cheesecake. That was too strange for me.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“I thought it was a good one,” said a deep voice from behind them. A pale man came from around the booth, a broad smile on his bearded face. “You should have given it a shot, darlin.”

“I’ll try the next risque recipe, my love,” Kali replied, looking at him fondly. She scooted out of the booth and squeezed his arm. She whispered something in his ear and waved goodbye to the pair of them in the booth. “Castiel, it was a pleasure. Enjoy the food.”

She sauntered away as he took her now unoccupied seat. He greeted Castiel jovially. “Name’s Benny. Did she say your name is Castiel?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied. Benny grinned a little wider.

“That’s an angel’s name. Look at me tellin’ you like you don’t already know, heh. Actual angel or coincidentally named?”

Castiel let out a little laugh. “Coincidentally named.”

“Well, some of us get blessed with unique names, some of us are cursed with boring old names like Dean, right?” Benny nudged Dean in the ribs, and Dean winced only slightly. “Shit, I’m sorry brother, did I hurt you?”

Dean waved a hand at him. “It’s nothing major. Got a little banged up earlier in a scuffle with Sam. I was actually hoping you might have some of that fancy cream of yours to make it heal a little faster.”

“Great minds think alike,” Benny replied. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small, round container. He placed it on the table in front of Dean. “Heard you got a little…’banged up’. Thought I’d come see if you needed any.”

“Everyone keeps hearing things about me,” Dean said as he took the container. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.” He opened the container, looked around to be sure no one else was looking, and he lifted his shirt up slightly to smear some of the cream on the wounded area. Castiel glanced at it and saw that it was now mostly bruised skin, streaks of magenta and violet - but it was much better compared to the bleeding hole it had been before.

“Am I allowed to ask how Sam is?” Benny ventured. Dean stopped rubbing the cream in, his shoulders tensed up a bit, but after a moment the strain was gone.

“I’m not sure how he is, honestly,” Dean replied. “All I took away from our conversation is that he wants Castiel at all costs. I’d like to find out how much of this is being fueled by Metatron. I also think we need to consider what our options are. How long can we realistically expect to keep hiding from Sam? How do we know he hasn’t found another Prophet descendant to pluck up?”

Benny was quiet as he mulled it over. He rubbed his hand over his beard thoughtfully. Castiel looked from one man to the other, observing them sitting in deep thought. He was finding it hard to believe that both of them were anything other than normal men. They looked like two old friends, nothing more than any other pair of friends in the city.

And suppose Castiel was from some sort of “royal” bloodline. His family was huge. An Archangel could choose just about anyone from his family. What was the significance that he held?

“How many descendants of the Prophets are there?” he asked after some time. Benny and Dean exchanged a look before both of them looked at him. Benny was first to answer.

“Well...as far as we know, only two bloodlines remain. Noah’s and Solomon’s.”

“If I had to guess,” Dean said next, “I’d wager he thinks you’re from Solomon. It’s a widely held belief that Solomon was full of mystical powers granted by God himself. It would explain his obsession with your family.”

Castiel sighed deeply. He stared down at his hands, clasped on the table, his mind working furiously. Dean placed a hand over both of his and squeezed.

“Don’t let our talk freak you out, okay?” he said softly. “We’re just speculating. There’s more work to be done. But I promise we’re going to keep you in the loop.”

Castiel locked eyes with him and nodded, the hint of a smile appearing on his face. Benny stood up from the booth suddenly when someone shouted his name.

“Gentlemen, I hope you enjoy the food,” he said politely. “Looks like there’s something I need to attend to. Dean, you available for a meeting on Friday? The four of us. Five if you bring Castiel.”

Dean nodded at him, and Benny nodded in return. He tipped his head forward in a goodbye.

“Keep the cream,” Benny said over his shoulder as he walked away. “Just in case something happens before Friday.”

“God, I hope not,” Dean mumbled. He let out a small sigh and leaned back in his seat, his hand never leaving Castiel’s.

Castiel was enjoying the simple touch. Beneath the table, his leg was brushing up against Dean’s now and then. It made his heart flutter each time.

When the waitress arrived with their food, they smiled at each other as the plates were set in front of them. Dean was looking at him fondly, a look that he couldn’t recall seeing in anyone’s eyes other than his family.

They talked as they ate, exchanging small details about their lives. Dean fed him bits of food, and with each bite of food, he would lick the fork obscenely. Dean would bite his lip and shake his head each time.

Benny returned to their table briefly to wave away Dean’s money when it was time to pay the bill. Dean frowned at him but Benny shooed them away.

When they returned to Castiel’s vehicle, it was dusk. Castiel didn’t know they had been in there that long. Dean took the keys out of his pocket and asked, “You still too high to drive?”

“Eh...probably not, but I like you being my chauffeur,” Castiel said, a devilish grin on his face.

Dean chuckled as they got into the car.

Castiel watched the road as they drove home. He let his mind wander before he asked, “Do you guys have meetings often?”

“Hm? Oh, the four of us? No, it’s not something we tend to do. Benny and Kali are the two that spend most of their time together. Bela keeps to herself. She’s sort of a germaphobe. Agoraphobic, too. She likes us to stay away if we can.”

Castiel listened as Dean talked more, about how he and Benny had always been good friends and how Benny being in love with Kali wasn’t something he had ever foreseen coming, and how he was a little worried about the upcoming meeting. Castiel placed a comforting hand on Dean’s leg and massaged the muscle of his thigh. Dean let out a small groan and he shifted in his seat.

“Don’t pick on me,” he warned in feigned anger. “You’ll regret it.”

“Oh?” Castiel trailed his hand up Dean’s thigh, stopping at the zipper of his pants. Dean hissed as Castiel cupped his semi-stiff dick through his pants. “If you get us home faster, I won’t have to tease you long.”

He said it partially because he knew they weren’t far from his house, but he also had been waiting since before dinner for Dean to take him to bed. He couldn’t explain his primal attraction to Dean, but he was enjoying it so far.

When they pulled into the driveway, Dean said nothing as he parked the car and Castiel withdrew his hand. Dean got out of the car swiftly, and he opened Castiel’s door without saying a word. Castiel stepped out gracefully, closed the car door behind him, and walked to the front door. He held his hand out for the keys, which Dean deposited to him.

As soon as Castiel had pushed open the door, Dean grabbed him and whirled him around. He shut the door closed before he pushed Castiel up against it. Castiel was momentarily taken aback as he realized that Dean’s human disguise was gone. He was face to face with a tall, horned creature that had the strength to crush out his existence.

He grabbed the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulled him closer, crushing their lips together. Dean growled and fit himself between Castiel’s legs, one hand coming to grip the top curve of his ass. Castiel mewled and wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist.

Dean grabbed his legs to give support as he pressed himself up against Castiel, using the door to steady them both. He left a trail of soft kisses up Castiel’s chest and neck, pausing at the bottom of his neck to suck lightly. Castiel groaned before he pulled Dean’s face up to his for more kisses. He wrapped his arms around Dean and raked his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean reached under Castiel’s shirt and raked his claws down his back. Castiel shuddered and gasped in pleasure at the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut.

Dean kissed him again, rough and tender simultaneously. He opened his eyes and looked up at Dean’s horns. He gripped the base of one firmly and stroked, unsure what reaction he would get. Dean emitted a deep moan before he bucked his hips and tightened his grip on Castiel’s back. Castiel felt Dean’s body shudder against him as he stroked the other horn.

“Ah, shit, do that again please,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s skin. “No one has ever touched me like that before.”

Castiel was so pleased to hear that that he couldn’t deny giving Dean what he wanted. He caressed Dean’s horns, giving them long, firm strokes that had Dean making all kinds of noises and rutting against him. Castiel planted kisses along Dean’s forehead and face while his hands caressed him. Dean’s hands were pulling at his pants and he was slowly pulling them down when --

Abruptly, Dean pulled back and he looked at Castiel seriously.

“I don’t have a condom on me,” he stated. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m free of diseases. I can’t catch em. But I want to offer you that option. Whatever is going to make you more comfortable.”

Castiel smiled at him appreciatively before he leaned forward and kissed Dean. “I’m comfortable with this as it is,” he said. “Take me upstairs now.”

Dean laughed and gripped him tight as he walked up the stairs. He fell onto the bed, Castiel beneath him, and he sat back for a moment as he worked on removing Castiel’s clothes. He gazed at Castiel longingly and said, “You’re so pretty.”

Castiel felt a blush rise in his chest and face. Dean had said it so clearly, with no hesitation. He tugged at Dean’s pants, and Dean took off his own clothes as well. Castiel reached across the bed and into his nightstand, where he withdrew a bottle of lube. He set it beside them on the bed then laid beside Dean again.

Dean leaned over him and kissed him greedily. Castiel let out an “Mmm” of appreciation as he kissed Dean in return. Dean grabbed Castiel’s length while they kissed and he pumped Castiel’s cock lovingly, smearing precome as he rubbed him. Castiel was already panting, begging Dean for more, when he heard the pop of the lube bottle. Dean pressed one wet finger against Castiel’s entrance, circling it before inserting his finger slowly.

Castiel gasped as Dean pumped his finger in and out, the sensation of his claw adding to the feeling of pleasure. He wiggled himself against Dean’s finger, and Dean slipped in another. Dean was timing each stroke of Castiel’s cock with the pumping of his fingers, and he was nibbling on Castiel’s neck, trailing those sharp teeth against his skin.

“Do you like that?” Dean asked in a soft voice. Castiel didn’t respond, he only moaned more. “Hmm? Tell me how you want it.”

Dean withdrew his fingers, leaving only the sensation of his hand on Castiel’s dick, and Castiel immediately pouted.

“Dean, please put your cock in me, please,” he begged, pulling Dean’s hand up to his mouth and sucking on his fingers lewdly. Dean bit down on his own lip before he lined up his cock with Castiel’s hole. Castiel wrapped both legs around him, and Dean pushed into him roughly.

Castiel made no noise of objection; in fact, he groaned in appreciation. They built up a steady rhythm, Dean pounding into him loudly, Castiel grinding against him.

Castiel felt his orgasm building up, but he was determined to make Dean come first. He squeezed and relaxed his muscles, repeating the action until he was sure Dean would go mad. When he felt himself teetering on the edge, he reached one hand up and gripped one of Dean’s horns. Dean let out a strangled noise as Castiel stroked the horn from wide base to narrow tip.

“FUCK,” Dean nearly shouted, panting hard, as he came abruptly. His body jerked upward, and his hand tightened around Castiel’s cock as he continued to pump it. Castiel let out a cry of his own as he came. He kept his legs tight around Dean, relishing in the feel of Dean’s body atop his.

Dean had crumpled against him. Castiel kissed along his jaw. He pulled Dean’s hand to his face and licked strands of his cum from Dean’s fingers.

“Was that okay?” he asked when he had caught his breath and Dean’s hand was clean. Dean laughed.

“Yeah, Cas, I’d say that was pretty damn great,” he replied. He pulled out from Castiel and rolled onto his side.

They laid in silence for several minutes, basking in the glow of the moment. Castiel could feel tackiness on his stomach where his remaining cum was drying, but he felt no need to rush getting up. Instead he allowed himself to be pulled into Dean’s arms, and they laid there for a while longer.


	15. Youngblood

Castiel wound up falling asleep tucked up against Dean. He had cleaned himself off some before curling up to Dean’s surprisingly warm body and falling asleep. He dreamt of nothing at first, and then he was startled awake after dreaming of Gabriel. He awoke to the first crack of dawn creeping in through his blinds, with his heart pounding and his body covered in a cold sweat. Dean stirred beside him, opening his eyes blearily.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered. Dean stifled a yawn and shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean replied. “I’m used to not sleeping. What woke you?”

Castiel rolled over to face Dean. He traced the outline of Dean’s face in the dark.

“I was dreaming of Gabriel,” he said eventually. “I should have known it was a dream. My parents and my sister were there, too. They’ve been gone long enough that I should know better. But it felt so real...”

He felt Dean frowning beneath his fingertips, but Dean stayed quiet. Castiel took another moment to feel Dean’s skin beneath his hand, touching his shoulder and bicep.

“You’re real, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice shaking a little. “I know my brother’s death is real. But are you real? Are we real?”

Dean placed his own hand over Castiel’s. “We’re very real,” he said reassuringly. “How long have your parents been gone?”

“Ten years at least. The precise number is really more like thirteen or fourteen. Sometimes I get confused and forget how many years exactly. My sister died right before them.” A thought occurred to Castiel then. “You didn’t...did you take their souls too?”

“No. I don’t know if it would be easier or harder for you to hear me say yes, but I didn’t. If it’s important to you, I can find the reaper who did.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I-I’m not interested in that. It was just a thought.” He kissed the tip of Dean’s nose before he sat up. “I need to get started on arranging Gabriel’s funeral. You don’t have to go anywhere, but I do need to make some phone calls. If I can find my phone.” He began searching near the nightstand but he didn’t see it. His brow furrowed while he slipped into some sweatpants. “Hang on, I’m gonna see if it’s downstairs.”

There it was on the kitchen counter. When he picked it up, he frowned. It was dead. He cringed as he thought about the calls he had surely missed from Balthazar, and the calls he still had to make. He plugged it into the charger he kept in the living room and headed back to the stairs.

“Hey Dean, do you want something to drink while I’m down here?” he shouted. There was a rustling sound before Dean’s groggy voice shouted back, “No thanks, I’m okay.”

Castiel smiled as he realized that Death himself was upstairs in his bed, probably rolling over to go back to sleep - like any other day.

He sat down at his desk and pressed his computer awake. If the phone needed to charge, he could at least check his emails while he waited. He scrolled through them, mindlessly at first, until he saw one that caught his eye.

_ Castiel, _

_ I know you’re going to hear this a lot, but I am genuinely sorry for your loss. You expressed that you’ll need some time off, which we understand. Standard time off for mourning is a week. You can come back sooner if you’d like. We also understand that it might be hard to get your bearings once more. Therefore we thought you might like to ease back into things with an easy topic - maybe something from a bakery? What sort of treat makes you feel okay again, something like that. We’re here for whatever you need. Looking forward to hearing from you soon! _

_ Thanks, _

_ Zachariah _

Castiel stared at the email, his face a little flushed with anger, his heart beating a little faster. Standard time off for mourning, they said. The company was suggesting he do a review of something sweet to break the ice.

He could see the title now:  **Ten desserts** that will make you feel  **alive** again after a loved one’s passing!

He closed the browser and sat for several minutes, staring at the mouse. He knew they didn’t mean anything vicious by writing to him. It was a somewhat large company. He was just another employee. They had a business to run. But at that moment, he wanted to stop the presses and burn the building down.

As a distraction to himself, Castiel looked over at his phone and then pressed the power button  until it lit up with life. He set it back down to let it resume charging. With a sigh, he glanced back at the computer before standing and walking to the kitchen. The coffee machine whirred to life beneath his fingers as he dumped coffee grounds into the filter and poured water into a small chamber. He automatically reached into the cabinet and took out a mug.

It occurred to Castiel that the last time he had even smelled coffee, it was right before Gabriel was hit by the car. With some ire, he also realized that he never even got to try the drink that the barista had made for him. He stared at the coffee pot as it started to fill, and he distantly noticed that his vision was becoming blurry. He blinked several times and, to his surprise, tears rolled down his cheeks.

At first Castiel felt stupid. It was only coffee. But something about the smell, and the thought of never again sharing a drink with his brother; never again fighting over how much sugar was too much or not enough; how much creamer was acceptable before it became “full on cafe au lait bullshit!” It made his chest feel tight, which made him uncomfortable, which made him - well - it made him angry.

Castiel gripped the mug tightly, stared at it with all the rage he could muster, and he threw it at the dining room wall. It shattered emphatically, the sound amplified by the silence in the house.

“Cas?” came Dean’s sleepy voice down the stairs. Castiel ignored his concerned voice in favor of grabbing another cup from the cabinet and throwing it as well, this one shattering against the kitchen floor. He took a step forward to reach into one of the cabinets across the kitchen, but he slipped on the ceramic pieces that were scattered on the floor.

With a sharp gasp of pain, he crumpled to the floor. His breathing was erupting into full blown sobs as he pulled the piece of broken mug out of his foot. In a decision made with panic, he took the jagged piece and pressed it to the thickest part of his arm. It had been years since he last succumbed to urges like this. Far away, the thought that Gabriel would be disappointed in his actions pushed him further to do it. He deserved this sort of agony. His brother, on the other hand, deserved nothing of the sort. It wasn’t fair that he was crying in his kitchen while his brother lay dead in a funeral home. It wasn’t  _ fair _ .

He jerked the piece across his skin frantically, blood springing up in its trail. He managed to get several more slashes in before a pair of strong hands enveloped his.

Castiel looked up and found Dean in front of him, and he felt the deep burn of shame in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

Dean shushed him softly as he took the piece from Castiel’s hand. “It’s okay,” Dean whispered, cradling Castiel in his arms. “You’re not stupid, Cas. You’re not stupid.”

At first Castiel was stiff as he tried to hold in his crying. When he felt Dean running one warm hand up and down his side in soothing strokes, he allowed the sobs to break free from his throat. He wailed in agony, pressing himself closer to Dean, who held him even tighter.

Castiel wasn’t even sure why he was crying anymore. Maybe it was because for the first time in so many years, he yearned for his mother. Maybe it was because he wanted the world to feel the despair he felt deep in his bones, but he knew that was selfish and petty. Maybe it was because he felt utterly and truly alone.

In one splitting second, Castiel let out a broken howl so desperate that Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He lifted Castiel up in his arms and carried him to the couch. He sat down with Castiel in his lap, making sure to keep Castiel’s injured arm pressed between them to stop the blood from flowing as freely. Castiel continued to sob, and Dean continued to hold him firm.


	16. Lacrimosa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drug use in this chapter

It took more than an hour to calm Castiel down, but Dean was patient. He whispered to Castiel over and over that he understood, that he knew everything was fucked up, and he wasn’t going anywhere - and then he carried Castiel upstairs without needing to be told twice.

As Dean laid him down on the bed, Castiel grabbed his bottle of Oxy and placed another in his mouth. He knew he was playing with fire with the drug use. He wouldn’t count this as a relapse, but he knew he was on thin ice. Although, he reminded himself, not calling it a relapse was exactly what addicts would do.

“Will you lay with me for a while?” Castiel asked, his voice a broken whisper.

“Of course,” Dean replied. He fitted himself behind Castiel’s body and draped an arm over his body. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s trivial,” Castiel said after some time. “I smelled the coffee I was brewing and it...I don’t know. It made me think of right before the car hit Gabriel, when I was standing there holding my coffee. I know it sounds crazy. It was just coffee.”

“It’s not crazy, Cas. Something tripped a wire in your brain. How you’re feeling right now, it’s valid.”

Castiel scoffed at that. “I’m crying over my brother dying and you watch people die every day. I know I seem like a baby in comparison.”

“Just because I’ve seen more people die, it doesn’t make your shit meaningless. It took me centuries to be able to do what I do without hesitation. Gabriel has been gone for two days. Cut yourself some slack.”

“How long did it take you to get over your brother hating you?” Castiel felt Dean tense against him. He squeezed Dean’s hand. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. It was out of line. I couldn’t think of any other way to phrase it. I just meant, you know, I wondered how you managed to deal with that on top of everything. Deal with the changes.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean would understand his intention even after that sorry excuse for an explanation. He was hurting all over. He was desperate to know if things would get easier with time.

Dean cleared his throat before saying, “I’m not sure if I’ve dealt with Sam wanting to kill me these days. It’s only been a few years. It’s bullshit honestly. But I’m not going to let him steamroll the world just cause he’s on angel steroids.”

Castiel listened as intently as he could. The drugs were starting to lull him to sleep, and the sound of Dean’s voice was a great addition to that.

“Please keep talking,” he said in a low voice. “I love listening to you talk.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll tell you about something nicer.” As Dean told him a story about a car he used to own, Castiel felt himself drifting off.

 

)o(

 

When Castiel awoke, he realized it was a bit brighter in his bedroom. Dean was no longer beside him. On the pillow Dean used was Castiel’s cell phone with a sticky note on top.

_ Had to step out to meet Benny. I brought your phone up for you.  _ _ Eat something. _

A smile worked its way onto Castiel’s face as he picked up his phone. The screen lit up at his touch, and he saw many many text messages. With a sigh, he looked at the most recent ones.

The first was from Meg.

>> _ Castiel. Novak. Call me, you asshole! I’m just trying to check on you. _

The second was from Balthazar.

> _ Give me a ring when you can. Wanting to finalize funeral arrangements with you. Let me know when you’re up and we can get it over with, yeah? _

His stomach turned at the thought of the funeral. Gabriel had always spoken of cremation, but Castiel didn’t know much more than that. He typed responses to both of the messages and sent them as he walked into the bathroom. He figured he should clean up whatever mess he had done to himself.

When he looked down at his arm, he was amazed to find no wounds there. There was dried blood in some areas, but the wounds themselves were gone. Castiel stared in confusion. He assumed that it was possible for Dean to heal at an inhuman rate, but he didn’t know that Dean was capable of healing his wounds as well.

The phone in his hand went off again. Castiel looked at the screen. Another one from Meg.

>> _ I’ll come to you, princess. Don’t run away. I’m omw. Bringing a +1. _

Castiel returned to the bedroom and ruffled through his dresser for clean clothes. He slipped on a shirt and some jeans, wondering who Meg could be bringing along. She didn’t have many friends that she saw on a regular basis. Now that he was thinking about it, Castiel realized there were only a couple of people that Meg might bring to his house.

_ Oh no...I bet it’s Dick, _ he surmised with a flinch.

Dick Roman was not Castiel’s favorite person. Dick was Meg’s best friend with whom Castiel had gone on one date. Only one. He had found Dick to be cocky and pretentious. The man was attractive enough, but the smug look he always wore was a repellent.

A knock on the door sent Castiel’s Dick thoughts away. He padded down the stairs and pulled the front door open.

“So the crowned prince is alive after all,” Meg said wryly. In the sunshine of the early afternoon, Meg looked especially alive. She removed the sunglasses she was wearing and pointed behind herself while she said, “You remember my friend Dick? He’s in the car. I’m sorry to bring him. I left him in there, I wasn’t sure if you’d want any other company. We were just heading for lunch when I got your text so I headed this way instead. Lunch can wait. Unless you’re in need of sustenance, then in that case come along with us.”

Castiel smiled at her, feeling genuine appreciation for his cousin’s wife. They had had many bumps in the road, but for her to stop whatever she was doing just to check on him…It left him feeling a surge of appreciation for her.

“I’m actually really hungry,” he said in lieu of expressing his remembered fondness of Meg. “Come in for a bit if you’d like. We can have a drink before lunch. You can call your lapdog, too.”

“Fuck off,” she laughed and punched his arm lightly. With her other hand, she waved at the car and motioned for Dick to come along. Castiel heard the car’s engine shut off and he watched Dick approach the house. Meg had just stepped inside by the time Dick was on the porch.

“Hey, Castiel,” he said, his hand extended in greeting. Castiel shook it briefly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Castiel responded. “You wanna come in for a drink?” Dick nodded and followed Meg into the kitchen. Castiel closed the door behind him and joined them.

Meg was rummaging through his alcohol cabinet and Dick had elected to remain by the edge of the room. He was watching her with one eyebrow raised.

“Hey Cas, does a shot of Johnnie sound good?” she asked as she emerged from the cabinet with a bottle of amber liquid in her hand. Castiel nodded in agreement. “Perf. You wanna do the honors of pouring? I’ll grab the glasses.”

She set the bottle down on the counter and grabbed three shot glasses. She lined them up swiftly then motioned for Dick to come closer. Castiel unscrewed the bottle of Scotch and poured generously. He picked up one of the glasses and waited for the others to follow.

When they each held up their glass, Castiel found that he could think of nothing to say. After several seconds of silence passed, Dick spoke.

“To Gabriel Novak. A human being like no other,” he said, clinking his glass against Castiel’s and Meg’s. Castiel smiled at him gently and nodded. He tossed the shot into his mouth and swallowed quickly. He grimaced at the lingering burning sensation in his throat.

“This expensive shit does not taste like what I thought it would,” Meg said as she set her glass down. “My whole face is warm, ugh. Lemme go rinse it and we can head off for food.”

When Meg had walked away, Dick looked at Castiel with a concerned expression.

“I’m not sure if it was okay for me to give the toast,” he said. “You looked like it was hurting you.”

Castiel waved away the concern. “Don’t worry about it. I would have started crying probably.”

Dick leaned against the counter and said, “I have something that might make you feel better. I was going to surprise Meg with it at lunch, but I think you need it more.”

Curious, Castiel replied jokingly, “If it’s not a drug that will make me forget everything, I’ll pass.”

Dick chuckled as he pulled a small baggie from his shirt pocket. He stepped close to Castiel and handed it to him. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with heroin. This is some platinum level Afghan brown. It’ll make you feel nice, to put it lightly.”

Castiel stared at the bag in his hand. His heart was racing. He knew that Dick was into light drug use - it was why they had never gone on another date. Castiel hadn’t been willing to risk his (at the time) newly started sobriety for a chance at a boyfriend. But he was unaware that Dick was into the heavier things that had made Castiel enter rehab to begin with.

“I’ll do a small line with you real quick - if you want to,” Dick offered.

Castiel continued to gaze at the baggie with uncertainty. He was chewing his bottom lip as he fiddled with the bag.

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on, just a small dose,” Dick said.

In the back of his mind, Castiel heard his voice of reason warning him that this was a bad idea. It reminded him that his sobriety was something Gabriel had been very proud of. This was decidedly not something his brother would have approved of. But the louder voice, the one that reminded him of his constant pain, assured him just one line would be okay.

Castiel nodded at Dick and poured a tiny amount of heroin out. Dick grinned when Castiel began lining the powder up. As Castiel made sure the line was evenly laid out, Dick rummaged through the drawers. He turned triumphantly back to Castiel with a straw in his hand, which he snipped in half with some scissors. He handed it to Castiel.

“The host goes first,” he explained.

Briefly, Castiel considered shoving the straw back at Dick and demanding that he leave.

Instead he leaned over slightly, positioned the straw between his nose and the heroin on the counter top, and inhaled.

 

)o(

 

It was late afternoon when Meg and Dick dropped Castiel off at home. Meg waited until he was inside safely before she pulled out from the driveway. They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes. When they were stopped at a redlight, Meg broke the quiet.

“Hey, did you remember to bring the H?” she asked.

“Yeah but I found a better use for it,” he replied. “I gave it to Castiel.”

Meg’s eyes widened in surprise. Her tone was sharp and alarmed as she exclaimed, “You did what?! Dick, he’s a drug addict. You can’t offer him heroin!”

Dick raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re quite defensive over him, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you actually give a damn about him.”

Meg slumped down in her seat, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she quipped. “What you’re doing isn’t part of the plan, genius. We were told to wipe the warding spell from the house, not get the vessel high as a kite.”

Dick did not respond at first. Meg could feel the tension sitting between them. She knew she had probably just overstepped something by fussing at him. She stared ahead at the light intently, not wanting to say anything more.

Without warning, Dick removed his seatbelt and jerked Meg up by her throat. He leaned across the center console, his face inches from hers, his hand squeezing her throat tighter as he spoke.

“You seem to have forgotten which one of us is higher up in the food chain,” he snarled. Meg was involuntarily squeezing the steering wheel with her hands as he choked her harder still. He waited as her face turned red. “I am Legion. We have existed since long before your kind was even thought of! So if I want to loosen Castiel up with drugs to make him more relaxed when Samuel goes to him, I. Fucking. Will. Capiche?”

Meg sputtered in response. Dick held on for a moment longer before jerkily letting go of her throat and shoving her back down into her seat. As he settled in his own seat again, with the seat belt clicking into place, he calmed his breathing.

“The light is green,” he noted.

Meg drew shaky breaths and started to cough before she continued driving silently. Dick smirked triumphantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, i don't remember much about dick roman's mannerisms. so if he seems OOC i apologize.


	17. Thirteenth Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xtreme drug use in this chapter.
> 
> i wrote this chapter while i was struggling with a drug craving, so honestly some of the drug description is just my own transference. so idk man, fair warning that if you are upset by drug stuff, maybe skip the first part of this chapter. i'm not condoning the drug use. i swear this isn't a casual-hardcore-drug-user cas story. the addiction will be dealt with.

Lunch hadn’t been bad, all things considered. Maybe it was the drugs, but Castiel had found that Dick was more tolerable this time around.

When they dropped him off, he had waved at them before closing his door and bolting upstairs. He ran straight to his closet and began sifting through the boxes that were stacked against the wall. He had hidden a bag of drug paraphernalia in one of these boxes before he went to rehab. While he was in treatment, he had been told that he would need to get rid of it. It was a safety net, his counselors told him. He had agreed with them. But when he was done with treatment, he elected to leave the bag hidden. He was afraid that if he did find it, he would be tempted to simply use the instruments instead of throwing them away.

Now here he was, searching for the bag that he should have thrown away years before.

He found the bag in the fourth box, buried beneath an old middle school gym shirt that he had kept for some reason he couldn’t recall. It was a small gold bag that looked more like a woman’s clutch than a pencil bag, which is what he used to tell people it was.

Just my pencil case, he would say.

With the bag in his grip, he sat on the edge of the bed. He unzipped it and began pulling various things out of it. An old pen that had been transformed into a pipe; a sheet of aluminum foil; a lighter; and a paperclip.

He had a sudden thought and he hopped over to the nightstand. He took one of the OxyContins into his hand, recapped the bottle, and he crushed the pill using the bottle. He ripped some of the aluminum foil from the sheet and folded it in half before he scooped the pill powder into the crease of it. He took the bag of heroin out of his back pocket and poured some of the powder on top of the Oxy residue.

Carefully, he sat down on the bed again and reached for the lighter and straw. He put the straw between his lips then held the lighter beneath the foil.

He hesitated briefly. The buzz from the line he had shared with Dick was starting to wear off, and his conscience was alive again. He knew that this was not something he should be doing. When he thought of how hard he had worked to get sober and stay that way, he wanted to throw up.

_ You know what will knock that nauseous feeling away? The dope. _

Castiel frowned in concentration as he flicked the lighter and held the flame up closer to the foil. The powder began to burn, and Castiel inhaled the smoke through the straw.

It burned. It burned a lot more than he remembered it burning years before.

_ That’s what a low tolerance will do to you, I guess, _ he reasoned.

He pulled the flame away so he could hold the vapors in for a minute. When he let out the breath he had been holding, an almost invisible trail of smoke escaped his lips. Immediately his head felt airy, as it if were separate from the rest of his body.

After the second hit, his body followed suit and he felt bubbly all over. Oddly enough, he realized that he was even enjoying the taste of the smoke. The taste of Afghan brown had always been one of Castiel’s favorite things to enjoy. Sometimes the heroin was so good it almost tasted like coffee. Combined with the Oxy, it was even better than he remembered.

Castiel took hits until there was nothing but black ash left on the foil. With all the effort he could manage, he balled up the foil and tossed it into the trash can across the room.

He laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing Dean was with him. He felt like himself for the first time in days. This was the version of himself that he wished Dean could see. Happy, put together Castiel.

Put together by drugs, sure, but...He wanted Dean to see him happy. Even if this happiness was only synthetic drug euphoria, it was better than the mess he had been that morning as he tried to slice himself apart.

His eyes were suddenly droopy, and he rolled onto his side as the heroin nestled him to sleep.

 

)o(

 

Castiel was almost certain that he was dreaming again. He was sitting on a bench outside as rain fell down. It was quiet except for the sound of the raindrops hitting the grass. He saw the wetness from the rain on his clothes, but he didn’t feel wet. He didn’t even feel damp.

He blinked up at the sky, raising a hand to shield some of the drops.

Faraway he heard the sound of footsteps rustling through the grass.

Dean?

Castiel turned around quickly, hoping it was Dean, but instead he saw a man in a white suit approaching. A pair of large golden wings were sticking out behind him. The man looked at him with eyes that seemed to be a mixture of blue and gold, swirling together in a dance. Castiel was transfixed by the coloring.

The man smiled at him as he got closer. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing to the bench.

Castiel looked the man up and down. 

“I suppose not,” Castiel replied. He scooted over a little to give the man more room. The man sat down with a soft sigh. They sat there for a while, staring ahead at the lake in the distance.

“I’m sure you’ve had this sort of encounter before in your dreams, right?” the man asked. Castiel looked over at him in confusion. The man was leaned back against the bench, his arms stretched behind him and one leg crossed over the other.

“It depends on what sort of encounter this is,” Castiel said smartly.

“In some ways, not the sort you’re accustomed to.” The man grinned. “My name is Sam. I believe you know my brother Dean.”

Castiel felt his heart drop to his stomach. His body tensed as he prepared himself to bolt from the bench. Immediately he began thinking of a way to wake himself up.

_ Like I know how to do that. Great. _

“Don’t run off just yet,” Sam asked. “If you would be so kind, I’d like to have a chat.”

“I’m not sure if I’m interested in talking to you. You sent a Hellhound to my house to kill me.”

Sam scowled as he raised his hands in submission.

“You got me there,” he conceded. “In my defense, he wasn’t there to kill you. He was going to bring you back to me so we could talk. Also, you know, he wasn’t even a real Hellhound. I beefed him up to scare Dean. Not a smart one, that brother of mine.”

Anger was rising in Castiel’s chest.

“Dean said he put a spell around me so you couldn’t find me. What are you doing here?”

Sam snickered and said, “I will always find a way to get around his mediocre barriers. I’m here to be frank with you. I’m here to propose a question to you, and you can think on it before you give an answer.”

Sam made eye contact with Castiel as he continued to speak. “I’m an Archangel. We were created to be God’s most absolute and final weapons, as I’m sure you know. I’m supposed to face off against one of my brothers when the Apocalypse begins. However, my younger brother died and my older brother opted to become Death’s final form instead of becoming an angel. When I had my chance to become an angel, I did it. And I’m not just any angel. I’m the Archangel to end all Archangels.”

“Not one to be modest, are you?” Castiel asked. Sam erupted with laughter.

“Oh I like you,” he said. “You’re going to be a fun vessel.”

“Excuse me?”

Sam’s expression grew serious. “I apologize, it was presumptuous of me to call you that. In the upcoming war, I want you to be my vessel. By ‘be my vessel’, I mean I want to use your body and fight Metatron. The blood that runs in your veins is sacred. You are destined to do this with me, Castiel.”

Sam was looking at him with eyes that seemed to be pleading. Castiel stared back at him, disbelief coursing through him.

“Is this the same bullshit you would have fed my brother?” he said, his tone venomous. “What would have happened if he refused?”

“I would have waited for you to come along next. I didn’t foresee my brother getting involved. That’s the only reason I’m coming to you now. I was afraid he would have you taken out just like your brother was and I would miss my chance to speak to you.”

Castiel felt the world grow smaller around him. His breath became lodged in his chest.

“W-what did you say?” he asked in shock.

“Which part of it do you need repeated? Surely you knew about Dean playing a part in your brother’s death.”

“Well, he has to, he’s the grim reaper. It’s his job.” Castiel’s body felt numb. He stared at Sam with a mixture of heartbreak and incredulity. There was no way that Sam was implying that Gabriel's death was a murder - or even worse, that Dean knew about it.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Sam said soothingly. He stood up from the bench slowly, and he began to walk away. “I thought you had all the information already. I’ll come back to ask you to be my vessel when you’re ready. But if you believe in Dean’s innocence, you’ll have no problem asking him who sent that car to crash into Gabriel. Ask him how was it that, of all the empty streets in Dallas, that car managed to find its way to the street you and your brother happened to be on. Ask him how he knew the exact moment he would need to be there for Gabriel’s soul.”


	18. Loyal

“I forgot how large Bela’s estate is,” Benny commented as he and Dean stared at large iron gates. Dean sighed heavily as he looked around. They had been walking for half a mile by now and he was growing irritated. It was hotter in Florida than he was accustomed to. Benny, who had spent most of his previous life in Louisiana, had told Dean to “stop bitching cause it could be worse, brother.”

“I forgot how irritating it is to be asked to leave the car by the road and  _ walk _ this far back,” Dean huffed. Benny snickered and patted him on the back firmly.

“C’mon, whiny baby,” Benny said, placing his hands on one half of the gate. Dean followed suit and positioned himself on the other half of the gate. Together they pushed the iron doors open. The gate creaked as it was forced open, like it had been years since it was last used. Knowing Bela, Dean thought, it was a real possibility that it had in fact been years since anyone had been allowed here.

Dean and Benny both stopped to take in the view of Bela’s home for a second. It was a large white mansion with ivory trimming all around it. The windows, which were taller than both Horsemen combined, were tinted black. The trees that surrounded the home shadowed the whole thing, casting an eerie aura to most visitors.

“She really wants everyone else to fuck off, huh?” Dean muttered.

It had been at least one hundred years since any of them had visited here. It had been even longer since Bela had come to visit any of them. Dean was mostly understanding of the whole thing. She preferred things to be laid out a certain way, and it was much easier to control those things when she was in her own home.

“If you’d been kidnapped and tortured before, wouldn’t you want to be left alone?” Benny countered. Dean grumbled something in agreement.

They walked to the porch, where Dean pounded on the thick oak door. He stood back some, waiting beside Benny for their companion. Dean took a moment to look back at the lake to the right of Bela’s mansion. It was beyond the gated property, and the surface of it was unmoving. There were no birds or frogs by it. Dean didn’t even hear any insects or animals, now that he thought of it. He frowned in thought as he felt, for the first time since arriving, that something was amiss. Maybe not with the land. Bela had always kept her grounds spotless. But the feeling creeping up on him…

Dean shivered and looked back toward Benny. Benny looked at him meaningfully, his eyes saying what he dared not say aloud.

The door creaked open in front of them.

“Hello boys,” Bela greeted them. Her English accent was as clear as ever. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a grey pantsuit. Her eyes, green with specks of white, were bright and welcoming. Her smile was wide - almost clownish. Benny smiled in return.

“Good afternoon, you pretty little thing,” Benny said warmly. Bela opened her arms and motioned for him to step closer. He obliged and she rewarded him with a tight hug. When she released Benny from her grip, Dean stayed put. Bela was not one to initiate physical contact. This was mildly alarming.

“Hello your majesty,” Dean said, his voice tight and controlled. She smiled at him, her arms still open. “Since when do you like hugs?”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying,” she replied. “Are you one to shy away from hugs now?”

Dean shook his head quietly, stepping forward to embrace her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck before sighing and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“My ring is in the downstairs bathroom in the toilet tank,” she whispered into his ear, the words rushing from her mouth. “Give no alarm. Do not react to what I’m telling you. When we get inside, excuse yourself to the restroom.”

Dean gaped at her as she pulled back from him. For a split second, her face appeared contorted; it was pinched in a look of pain, and her hands were still gripping Dean’s shoulders. And then she shivered as she jerked her head down then up. Her smile was again plastered on her face as she said, looking at Benny with dull eyes, “Come inside, boys.”

Bela turned and walked into her home. Benny walked up from behind Dean, giving him a clap on the shoulder as he passed. Dean remained where he stood, confusion holding him still.

Bela was the first and oldest of the Horsemen. She had existed even longer than Dean could recall. In all the time that they had spent together, he couldn’t recall a single instance when she had ever wanted a hug. Furthermore, he certainly couldn’t recall a time when she had gotten so close that her lips were pressed to his ear.

Dean stared beyond the entrance, at the interior of the house as he walked toward it, his hand extended before him hesitantly. As he entered the doorway, he half expected the house to shock him. He placed his hand on the doorframe and closed his eyes, concentrating with great effort. It was a trick Kali taught him centuries before. If he felt for the line, he would be able to see it clearly.

He hummed to himself, the sound barely registering with his ears, and his fingers tapped on the wood gently.

It was there. Just beyond his reach. A trail to whatever force was causing the uneasy feeling in the air.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, and for a moment he saw it clear as day: a thin, sheer line of light that led through the entrance before it jerked to the right. Benny and Bela had walked to the left, which Dean was certain must be where a parlor was. But the line didn’t go where they were…

“Dean!” Benny shouted from inside the house. “You’re letting the cool air out, brother. Get in here.”

Before his eyes, the line shattered and disappeared. Dean exhaled, annoyed at the intrusion. With his concentration broken, he walked into the mansion and swerved to the left, following the voices of Bela and Benny.

“...He complained the whole walk up here that it was hot as Hell outside, now he’s hovering on the porch,” Benny was saying as Dean approached the parlor. “I know you’re out there eavesdropping, you devil.”

“S’not eavesdropping if I coincidentally hear you talking while I’m coming in,” Dean retorted. “Sorry, I was thinking about trying to find a bathroom, but I’m not sure where it is. Bela?”

“Down the hall,” she said curtly. Dean nodded and backed out of the room. He walked briskly, his body seemingly moving without any conscious effort. When he entered the bathroom, he locked the door almost immediately.

Dean looked around the bathroom uneasily. It was pristine. The marble counters were smooth and shiny, and the tiled floor almost sparkled. And yet...the room looked so dull in the light.

He approached the toilet and lifted the tank’s cover carefully. He set it on the toilet seat as quietly as he could before he peered into the tank. When he saw the inside of it, he wrinkled his nose with disgust.

The water was grotesque. It was a dark shade of green, bubbles and algae floating on top of the water. Dean caught a whiff of something unpleasant when one of the bubbles popped.

“Seriously?” he grumbled. “Fine. Fine, I’ll just do it.” He rolled his sleeve up then plunged his arm into the tank. As the water sloshed some, the foul odor grew stronger. Dean fought to stop himself from gagging.

_ It’s just water _ , he told himself.

Dean felt around in the water, his fingers bumping along the bottom of the tank. Everything felt so slimy. At last, his fingertips brushed against a small ring. He grabbed it and immediately withdrew his arm from the water.

In his hand, Dean recognized Bela’s small ring. It was a small gold band with an oval diamond atop it. Dean knew it well. In the time before Bela had been kidnapped, she had spent much more time with Dean. He always thought of it as the oldest sibling taking care of the youngest. He had never seen her without this ring on her finger. His own ring, which was a simple silver band, was currently on his pinky.

Dean placed Bela’s ring in his pocket before he removed the putrid water from his arm with a wave of his hand. He put the cover back on the tank and flushed the toilet for good measure. As he was turning toward the door, it suddenly burst open, the lock simply giving way. He jumped as Benny came rushing into the bathroom. Benny held a finger up to his lips and Dean said nothing.

“Someone else is here besides us,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer to Dean. “I’m sure you felt it. I told her I was coming to use the bathroom while she went to get refreshments from the kitchen. I don’t want it to look suspicious so talk fast. Tell me what you’ve picked up on.”

“I found her ring in the toilet,” Dean replied in a hushed tone. Benny’s eyes widened as Dean showed him the ring briefly before returning it to his pocket. “I tried to follow the line from the front door but I had to come in here instead. The line wanted to lead me to the right side of the house. One of us should get in there to look around.”

“You got it. Chat her up some while I sneak off; it’ll make more sense now that she thinks I’m in the bathroom. See if you can get anything out of her, any clue.”

“Right.” Dean and Benny nodded at one another before Dean exited the bathroom. He closed the door carefully then walked back to the parlor.

Bela stood near a bar, where she had lined up several glasses. She was pouring tea from a pitcher. As Dean walked toward her, she turned and smiled at him, offering him one of the filled glasses.

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” she said. Dean sat in a recliner with an end table next to it, which he set his drink on. The sound of glass on firm wood resonated in the room. Bela’s face spasmed ever so slightly - Dean was barely aware it was happening. She stared at his glass on the table. Dean, furrowing his eyebrows in concern, turned his attention to the glass. It did look odd, though it wasn’t clear why at first.

Then Dean realized there was no coaster underneath the glass. Bela kept an endless supply on hand and she had always been fast to reprimand Dean about using one. But this time, Bela struggled to say anything. It all happened in a matter of seconds - the subtle change of her face as she appeared to struggle to say something.

“Bela?” Dean questioned. He sat up straight in the chair. “You okay?”

Bela’s face abruptly changed. Gone were the pink tints from her cheeks, the tight line of her lips - instead she smiled and even let out a soft laugh as she shook her head.

“So Benny wouldn’t completely tell me what’s happened on your end. He said something’s going on with the Solomon bloodline?”

“The Solomon bloodline?” Dean asked, confused.

“I’m sorry. The Novaks. You’ve always kept an eye on them, haven’t you?” Bela sat down in the chair across from him, a glass of tea still in one hand. She crossed one leg over the other before she sat back comfortably.

“Not always. Only recently. Should I have kept an eye on them longer?”

“I only assumed you would. I know how important it is to you to keep the order of things as it should be. The youngest Novak is the only one left of their lineage. I’m curious how you plan to protect him.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s the youngest. He has extended family.”

Bela took a sip of her tea as she replied, “He’s definitely the youngest. The mother was adopted, weren’t you aware?”

“I wasn’t aware. When did you come across that information?”

“Recently. It’s partly why I wanted you two to visit.”

Dean watched as Bela fidgeted slightly, her eyes looking at anywhere but his face. “Well, no offense Bela, but this isn’t exactly groundbreaking information. It could have waited until the meeting, you could be explaining all this to Cas.”

Bela’s hands stilled in her lap and she looked up at him finally. “Cas? On a nickname basis, are you?” That smile was back on her face. Frankly, it creeped him the hell out.

Dean found himself leaning back in his seat instinctively. The light in the room seemed to brighten then dull the longer he looked at the being he had always considered his mentor.

“How did you find out that Castiel’s mom is adopted?” he asked abruptly, fighting to clear the voices of doubt from his mind. “You Google it?”

“A friend told me about it.”

Dean watched her, still feeling uneasy. Bela didn’t have friends he knew of, although he reasoned with himself that it was very possible she had made friends in the last century.

“What friend is that?” he asked , hoping his voice sounded as nonchalant as he intended. He fiddled with the glass on the table as he spoke.

“His name is Metatron.”

Dean froze. He knew his face must be showing the shock he felt. “Since when are you friends with Metatron?”

“It’s...it’s a new alliance,” she replied with some trepidation. “I wanted to thank you, actually. For assisting in a favor I did for him, although you did it unknowingly. You see, I sent that car to kill the eldest Novak boy. And you...you brought him straight to Heaven. Straight to Metatron. Another soul for his cause. A powerful one at that.”

His hands shook with fury. “You fucking did what? What the hell do you mean another soul for Metatron?”

“Don’t be so dim, Dean. You know there’s a war brewing between your brother and Metatron. Somewhere in your mind, you knew Metatron was linked to why your brother wants to use the Novaks as vessels.”

Abruptly Dean stood from his chair. The force of his body propelling upward shoved the chair back behind him. He crossed the space between them speedily. Shaking, he placed his hands on either side of her armchair and leveled his face with hers.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Bela? What’s gotten into you? Do you think this is a game?”

Without warning, there was a bang as the parlor doors flew open. The bookcases that were lined along the walls shook as the books within them fell to the ground. The lights shattered as the room exploded with a BOOM! of sound. Dean and Bela were motionless where they stood.

“One of your guests seems to have gotten lost, my dear,” said a nasally voice. In the doorway was Benny, a blade pressed to his throat. Behind him stood a shorter man dressed in a baggy jacket and pants.

“It’s not a game at all, Dean,” Bela hissed from her place below Dean. “Things change. We have to adapt.”

“Why are you doing this, Bells? What has he done to you?” Dean searched her face imploringly, not wanting to believe that this was happening. Bela touched his hand discreetly and squeezed it.

“Do what must be done,” she whispered.

“Ahem...hey, can we pause this lover's quarrel and focus on me?” the short man demanded. “I  _ am _ holding an enchanted blade to your buddy’s throat.”

Dean straightened up and turned to face the pair of them.

“Dean,” Benny said, his voice strained. “He’s Metatron.”

Dean snarled, “Good job bringing yourself to me so I can rip out your grace myself.”

Metatron chuckled heartily. “So fiesty,” he noted. “How about you simmer down and we make a trade. I’ll hand War to you, and you send Pestilence over to me. Seems like a fair trade.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to make deals with an angel,” Dean shot back. “You’re free to fuck off though.”

“Dean, let’s just go,” Benny interjected. “This isn’t worth dying over.”

“ _ Dying _ ? You think Metatron has the power to  _ kill us _ ?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“Would you like to find out, kiddo?” Metatron taunted, his face smug as he pressed the blade harder against Benny’s skin. Benny hissed as a small line of crimson blood trickled down his neck.

Dean let out a low growl, feeling annoyed and trapped. He pulled Bela up from her seat and gripped her tight as he led her over to where Metatron and Benny stood. They all four stood there, staring at one another.

“This isn’t the last you’re gonna see of me, asshole,” Dean seethed. “Remember my face.”

“As if I can forget it,” Metatron replied. He pushed Benny toward Dean and he tugged Bela from Dean’s grasp. Benny stumbled as he was pushed forward. Dean caught him swiftly.

“Get out while you can, boys,” Bela said to them. They looked at her sadly before heading out the parlor.

“I’ll see you kids soon,” Metatron shouted after them. Dean stiffened beside Benny. He was preparing to turn around and go after the cocky son of a bitch when Benny grabbed his upper arm. He shook his head at Dean silently.

They walked hurriedly out of the mansion, the air outside a fresh release from the smothering sensation they had experienced inside Bela’s home.

They continued walking in silence until they reached the gates. Together they pushed the gate doors open. Dean paused to look back at the mansion.

“Don’t stop, Dean, we have to get out of here,” Benny said, his words rushed. Dean was unsettled by the way Benny was behaving. Benny wasn’t scared easily.

As they walked, the woods around them roared to life with noise. The sound of frogs and cicadas overwhelmed them. And then, from behind them, they heard a low rumbling sound. The ground began to quiver beneath their feet.

“What the hell….” Dean mumbled, peering over his shoulder.

“Shit!” Benny shouted as he turned to look back as well.

The ground around the mansion was quaking, the sound reverberating all around them. The trees and the lake shook, waves crashing up onto the land abruptly and branches snapping off loudly. The mansion wobbled in its entirety, a white light pouring out of every window, and then it collapsed into the ground. The ground swallowed the house up in a giant sinkhole. It disappeared before Benny’s and Dean’s eyes.

“Oh my God,” Benny said, awestruck. “He...he took the whole damn place.”

The ground continued to shake ominously. Around the hole that had swallowed up Bela’s home, the ground was falling away.

“Ah fuck,” Dean breathed. He shook Benny’s shoulder as he shouted, “Run!”

They sprinted toward the edge of the woods as the world roared around them. The earth beneath them was decomposing rapidly as they ran. Neither one dared to look back, both of them staring ahead with determination. When they reached the edge of Bela’s property, where trees met barbed wire fence, they both jumped across the fence. Time seemed to slow momentarily as they hung in the air - and then the world exploded behind them. They were sent flying forcefully.

They landed haphazardly on their sides, both of them gasping for air. It wasn’t the actual physical exertion that had exhausted them. There was something in the very air that seemed to have drained them of their strength. As they watched the ground continue to crumble, Dean realized with horror that once he had stepped off of Bela’s land he felt lighter. He could feel his energy coming back.

Dean got to his feet to survey the damage. There was no trace of Bela’s land - none at all. There was only a giant crater.


	19. All The Stars

Benny stood up shakily, mouth gaping. He gestured in front of Dean to the empty space and then gestured back at himself wordlessly. He did this a few more times before Dean let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah...yeah, that really fucking just happened,” he said, his tone sounding more amused than he felt.

“This  _ can’t _ happen,” Benny protested. “Things like this don’t just happen. If it was that easy to kidnap a Horseman, anyone would be able to do it. So either we’re not as powerful as we thought, or Metatron is a lot stronger than we estimated.”

Dean mulled it over as he stared at the crater. He rubbed a hand across his head, a deep sigh erupting from within him.

Bela had seemed so willing to go with him. Was it because she feared him? Had he chosen her because she was isolated? Should Dean have insisted on visiting her in all these years?

“FUCK!” Dean bellowed. He turned away from Bela’s missing estate and Benny and he kicked at the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to walk away when he felt something small and round in his pocket.

Bela’s ring. Dean had completely forgotten about it. He stared at the trinket in his palm, his mind working rapidly.

“Metatron didn’t kidnap a Horseman,” he said in a breathless voice.

“I’m sorry, he didn’t do what now?” Benny demanded. “You were there, Dean, you saw what happened.”

Dean turned back toward Benny, holding the ring up. “He didn’t kidnap a Horseman. He kidnapped a mortal. She led me to her ring...so you know what it means if it’s in my hands. She gave up Pestilence.”

Benny looked at him, speechless. The silence settled between them again. Dean frowned as he thought of the pain Bela must have gone through to transfer the power from herself to the ring. The rings were symbolic at best on any other day. But this day hadn’t been like any other day.

“It’s not as simple as putting the ring on, Dean,” Benny said. “There’s a ritual for you to transfer those powers to yourself.”

“Whoa whoa, what the hell,” Dean replied. “I didn’t say that I want her powers. You take them!”

Benny rolled his eyes. “This ain’t a game of hot potato. You can’t just toss the power back and forth. And uh, let’s not forget that we should still tell all of this to Kali. She might have an opinion on this.”

Dean slapped himself on the forehead. “Duh. Of course we should ask Kali for her input. Let’s go.”

“Glad you see it my way. Are we taking the car back with us?” Benny motioned to Dean’s car beside them. Dean thought it over briefly while they looked at his baby in unison.

“It’s gonna take too long. I don’t know how much time Bela can buy us before Metatron realizes she’s faking it.”

“He’s a guy. It might take him a while to catch on.”

Dean tapped Benny fondly. “I’m proud of you for making that joke before I did. As outdated as it is, I appreciate it. Let’s the get the hell out of this place.”

 

)o(

 

Kali met them at her coffee shop. Dean had always been fond of The Junkyard. Kali had owned it, in one form or another, for years. At one time, it was a magic supply shop. Before it was a coffee shop, it was a full-on bakery. She liked the location, she had once told Dean. There was never a shortage of customers.

Dean was familiar with the staff. Aside from how often he came in for treats, he sometimes helped out in the kitchen. It was an added bonus, in Dean's opinion, that everyone at both of Kali's places was some form of supernatural creature. When he and Benny walked in, they were greeted by his favorite otherworldly cashier.

“Hello Charles,” he said to the cashier as he leaned on the counter.

“Hey nerd,” Charlie replied. “Here for business or pleasure?”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, kiddo. We’re here for Kali though. She in the back?”

“In the office. You guys want anything to snack on? It’s dead right now so I’ve got time.”

Dean waited for Benny to respond first. Benny shook his head and replied, “I’m good, sweetheart. You know Dean can never say no to your concoctions though.”

Benny patted him as he walked behind the counter, leaving Dean at the front. Dean smiled at Charlie appreciatively before she walked back to the blenders to start making his drink. He straightened up from his leaning position and watched her absentmindedly, one hand in his pocket on the ring.

He decided to linger and wait for the drink only so he could give Benny and Kali a minute together. Kali worried about Benny even if she wouldn’t admit it. They had been together for so many centuries that it would have seemed strange if she wasn’t worried.

Dean reached across the counter and plucked a cake pop from the small basket that sat by the register. As he rustled the bag open, Charlie shouted over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to pay for that! You know how Kali feels about the cake pops.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean waved her off as he shoved the round cake piece into his mouth and deposited the wrapper into the trash can. He stared out the large front window after he got rid of the trash. He recognized the dark haired man across the street and his stomach lurched.

“Cas…” he breathed. He walked closer to the window without thought. His hand moved up mindlessly until it rested on the glass. Castiel was standing outside of Novak Travelers, a blond haired man by his side. They stood comfortably next to one another. Dean recognized the man; he had been in Gabriel’s hospital room.

_ Balthazar _ , he remembered.

Dean wanted to run over and see what had brought Castiel to this side of town. Castiel was looking around nervously as he spoke to Balthazar. As Dean watched Castiel, he realized, with a pang of guilt, that this was where Gabriel had been struck by the car.

_ A car that one of us sent _ , he thought with an overwhelming sensation of shame.

_ Fuck me _ .

He wanted to talk to Cas as soon as possible, but he needed to handle this Bela situation first. There were things even he didn’t have the answers to yet. There were so many things happening simultaneously.

Time was always so fluid to Dean Winchester. He knew that things existed within the plane of time that he understood, and he knew things existed beyond that realm as well. Of course this meant that there were always an overabundance of things happening at the same time. He knew that. But still he felt overwhelmed. He felt weak - almost helpless. Helplessness was not a familiar feeling to Dean anymore. At least it hadn’t been in quite some time. It was humbling but it was also worrying.

“Deano,” Charlie said loudly from behind him. “Got a special treat just for you.”

Dean turned to face her, plastering a smile onto his face hurriedly. He walked over to her, accepted the drink, and he took a hearty sip of the iced beverage.

“It’s perfect,” he commented to a beaming Charlie. “Thanks, lady.”

“No problem my dude. Go see the boss before she decides to charge you double for that cake pop.”

Dean laughed and walked behind the counter. He veered to the left and knocked on a door to his right. He sipped on his drink as he waited for a response. The door was yanked open, and on the other side stood an angry looking Kali.

“Get in here,” she ordered.

“Jeez, okay okay,” Dean replied, hand up in submission.

Kali’s office was spacious in this shop compared to the one she kept at the restaurant. This office had space for a cushioned loveseat as well as a desk and two chairs. Dean opted to sit in the loveseat. Benny sat in one of the chairs, leaned back with one leg resting atop the other.

Kali closed the door then sat down in the other chair.

“Let me see the ring,” she said. After a moment of thought, she added, “Please.”

Dean fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her cautiously. She peered down at it. Her face scrunched up in thought. Dean sipped more of his drink while he waited for Kali to process what she was holding.

“I can’t believe she just left this to you,” she said eventually. “Benny filled me in while you were getting that drink. I knew what to expect but I still don’t understand.”

“Same,” Dean said. “I don’t know what we should do first. Assuming he hasn’t killed her yet, should we just hold onto it until she’s freed? “

“I think we should go down the route which consists of one of us accepting Pestilence in addition to our other duties.”

“Has that ever been done before?” Benny asked.

“Not as far as I know,” Kali replied. Benny placed a hand on her knee. “Each of us was offered our duties as we lay dying. There was never any reason for one of us to shoulder the power of two. It may be impossible for one of us to truly put the ring on.”

“Metatron and Sam are really fucking the game up, huh?” Dean asked with a frown. “Bela said Cas’s mom was adopted. So he really is the last of the Solomon blood. Sam is going to do anything to get his hands on Cas. Metatron is already trying to cut us off at the neck. We have to keep Cas away from them and finish what they started.”

“Are you volunteering to keep him safe?” Kali raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Of course.”

“Is that wise?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You have feelings for a mortal man. Will those feelings compromise your duty?”

“Of course not,” Benny answered. He looked mildly offended on Dean’s behalf. “Dean’s no fool. He’s been at this long enough that he knows better. But if he watches over Cas, it gives us time to find a way to deal with Metatron.”

“Or Sam,” Dean offered. “Or both. That would be the better ending.” Benny nodded in agreement.

Kali rolled the ring around in her hand thoughtfully while she twisted the chair from side to side.

“We should talk about the option none of us has dared to speak of thus far,” she said after some time. She closed her hand around the ring. “We can always move ahead with the apocalypse.”

Dean, who had been idly sipping at his drink, almost dropped his cup. Benny sat back in his chair looking dismayed.

“We agreed that that will always be the last resort,” Benny said with a frown. “We can’t just start it when all the signs aren’t there, honey. I know that two Archangels having a war is basically how the world is gonna end, but this ain’t the war God spoke of.”

“How would any of us know?” Kali countered. “None of us are of the original Horsemen. We’re all second generation. Bela was the closest thing we had to an original one. Most of the signs of the end times are already here. Maybe if we start it now, the Archangels won’t have time to one up each other. They’ll battle with equal footing.”

“Sam has the essence of Lucifer,” Dean said with a snort. “He’s an Archangel on steroids. I don’t think there’s much of an equal footing anymore. It sounds like Megatron is up there collecting souls just to level the playing field.”

Benny chuckled when Dean said Megatron. Dean smiled for the first time since they’d sat down.

“A fair point,” Kali conceded. “I’ll amend my proposal. I suggest we weaken Sam then start the final war.”

Dean sighed discontentedly, his shoulders sagged with worry.

“Can we just shelve the apocalypse talk until we figure out what to do about Bela?” he asked in a dejected tone.

“For now,” Kali agreed. She held the ring out to him. “Keep it. She gave it to you. She could have chosen Benny, but she chose you to be the one to find her ring. I think that’s her way of choosing who should be the next Pestilence.”

Dean took the ring numbly. He looked down at it thoughtfully before nodding and stowing it in his shirt pocket. It felt cold against his warm body, even through the shirt. He couldn't imagine a life with both powers in his hands. Yet here he was, with the ring to prove what was to come.

With a sigh, each of them stood and walked out of the office. They walked down the short hallway toward the front of the shop.

“If I die in the process of becoming the first and last Horseman, let everyone know that I truly did enjoy this drink,” Dean said, lamenting at his now empty cup. He deposited it into the trash can as they neared the counter.

“I’ll be sure to let the world know that even Death enjoyed the creations of our Charlie,” Kali said in a low voice, gifting him a smile.

The barista in question was at the register, chatting with a customer about blueberries and nuts in the same muffin.

“Hang on, I can hear the store owner coming. I’ll ask her what she thinks,” Charlie was saying.

“Food questions are better directed at Dean,” Kali said loudly, throwing her hands in the air as she hurried to the door. Benny kept stride with her. He threw Dean a bemused look. Dean rounded the counter blindly, his eyes still on Kali and Benny.

“Ask away Charlie,” Dean said casually. When he turned his gaze back to Charlie, he realized a familiar, smiling figure was standing across from her at the register.

“Dean?”

“Cas…” Dean stared at Castiel dumbly. His mouth went dry the longer he looked. Guilt and shame twisted in his gut. Castiel was glaring at him. The smile that had been on his face a moment earlier was gone. “Cas, I’m glad to see you. Can I talk to you?”

Castiel was still for several moments before he nodded silently. His mouth formed a thin line of anger and his hands were clenched as he followed Dean to the back office. Dean made brief eye contact with Kali and Benny, who nodded at him in understanding. He led Castiel to the office and closed the door behind them.

He hovered with his hand on the doorknob, unsure of how to start explaining the information he now had about Gabriel. He could hear Castiel’s sharp breathing behind him.

“Listen, Cas, I found out some things,” he said as he turned to face Castiel. “I want to tell you ab--” Dean’s sentence was cut off by a fist to his face.


	20. Hurt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO I REALLY HATE WHEN PPL JUST DIP OFF AND LEAVE A STORY HANGING BUT HERE I AM FOUR MONTHS LATER FINALLY ADDING A NEW CHAPTER AYYYYY :^) heck me.  
> i know that dean and cas don't cry this easily in canon but i kinda wanna let them be just as damaged & able to cry it out in this au.

The intent behind the punch cracked Dean’s head to one side. It wasn’t the force of it that moved his body so much as the fact that he wasn’t expecting to be hit. Dean touched a hand to his now hot skin, mouth agape.

“You stupid asshole!” Castiel shouted as he hit Dean again, this time on the chest. “You selfish, lying ASSHOLE!”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Dean bellowed back. He held his arms up to catch the brunt of Castiel’s blows as the angry man continued to rain blows on him.

“You killed my brother!” Castiel shoved Dean this time, his voice shaking with rage as he continued to yell. “Sam told me about how you had Gabriel killed! Why, Dean?! Tell me  _ why _ ! So you could one up your asshole brother? You’re just as much of an asshole as he is!”

Dean fell back against the door in surprise. He lowered his arms as Castiel stood still, glaring at Dean with angry, tear-filled eyes.

“When did you speak to Sam?” Dean breathed. “He shouldn’t have been able to find you. How did he find you?”

“In my dreams. Sam isn’t the issue here, you are. I never should have trusted you.”

Dean pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to Castiel. “You’re wrong,” he said. “Whatever Sam told you isn’t true.” Castiel snorted dismissively and waved his hand in the air. Dean growled, “Listen to me. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. If you’d let me explain--”

“ _ Explain _ ?” Castiel sneered as he crossed his arms. “The only explanation I want to hear is why you’re doing this to me. Why fuck with me? Why fuck me, for that matter? Why act like, out of all the people in the world, I’m worth paying attention to when what you really want is to use me so your brother can’t?” Castiel’s voice trembled as he spoke, a momentary crack in his armor. “I cried in your arms like a sad puppy. I played right into your bullshit, didn’t I?”

Dean stared at Castiel blankly, anger and rejection swimming in his veins. He stared at the man before him, who stood opposite him defensively, ready to strike again. Dean’s face was still hot from where Castiel’s hand had hit him, reminding him of how quickly Castiel had turned on him.

The anger that was slowly boiling spilled over, and Dean lunged at Castiel. He shoved Castiel against the wall forcefully. Castiel grunted as his back connected with the hard surface. Dean held him firmly, breaths coming out of himself in jagged bursts.

“I’m using you?” Dean asked, his voice a low rumble. “ _ I’m _ using  _ you _ ?  _ Grow up _ . I am the Angel of Death. I answer to  _ no one _ . I could wipe out this entire swamp of a world and I would be doing all of you a fucking favor. But there is  **order** to be maintained here. I follow the rules. Sam doesn’t. He has done nothing but stir shit up from the moment he got his fancy angel badge. You think Sam is your ally? Get real. Sam wants to wear you to the prom and be crowned Prom King. And when he’s done with you? He’ll toss you into the pit with not so much as a word of thanks.”

Dean wanted to smash the room apart with all his might. He wanted to shove Castiel harder, slap some sense into him. Castiel’s nostrils flared as he took in short, angry breaths. Dean growled, anger continuing to rise within his chest.

A human man, berating him as if he would go out of his way to ruin one single life. Like it was worth his time.

_ It’s worth Sam’s time to ruin one single life though _ , a voice in his head pointed out.  _ Be understanding. _

As the rage burned in his chest, Dean fought to control himself. He hadn’t expected this to go sour this quickly. He knew Castiel was new to all of this. He knew it, and the logical part of him wanted to talk it out. The angrier part of him wanted to slap Castiel back the way he himself had been hit. He wrapped one hand around Castiel’s throat, temptation telling him to squeeze - squeeze until the human had learned its lesson. He tightened his grip slightly.

_ He is a mortal. A confused mortal, just as you once were _ , he reminded himself.

Castiel’s eyes were still bright with tears as Dean simmered down just enough to slide his hand firmly upward, resting it against Castiel’s face. He let out a harsh sigh as he slumped forward.

“I’m not fucking with you just to do it,” he said after a tense minute. “I hadn’t planned on being attracted to you. None of this has gone according to plan. If there ever was a plan.” He looked at Castiel beseechingly, his hand still resting against Castiel’s face as he spoke.. “I didn’t kill Gabriel. Just hear me out. Please.”

Tears began to spill over from Castiel’s eyes. Momentarily, Dean wanted to wipe them away. Instead he stood still with baited breath while he allowed Castiel some time to process what he had said. Finally, Castiel nodded at him. Dean stepped back gently, releasing Castiel. He motioned to the loveseat before walking to it. As he sat down, Castiel followed him silently.

Dean ran one hand roughly over his own face, sighing heavily once more as he did so.

“I’m gonna say this to reiterate it,” he said after a long moment of locking eyes with Castiel. “I did not kill Gabriel.”

Dean looked at him then, fingers itching to be intertwined with his lover’s hand. He fought back the urge. He was unsure if touching Cas was appropriate given what had just transpired. He settled for clasping his hands together in his lap, arms resting on his thighs as he bent forward.

“I know that you’re hurting,” Dean continued, eyes still locked with Castiel’s. “I wish I could tell you that I have all the answers but right now all I know is that Bela was involved with your brother’s murder.”

For the first time, Castiel looked surprised. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he closed it just as suddenly.

Dean kept talking. “Me and Benny, we went to see her. She called Benny out of nowhere after I spent the night at your place. He asked me to tag along...said she had asked to see me, too. We went and things seemed...they seemed wrong right from the moment we got there. I tried talking to her but she kept rambling on about you. She said your mom was adopted, which is news to me, but I guess it makes sense. That would make you the last of your lineage on her side if she didn’t have any remaining family. Is that true?”

“About her being adopted? Not that I’m aware of.” Castiel answered in a low voice.

“Son of a bitch. Why would she lie about that?” Dean muttered more to himself than Castiel. He broke the gaze they were sharing and stared at the wall as he thought.

Castiel bit his lip nervously as Dean grew quiet. “But...well, I never have met any of her family. I have aunts and uncles on my dad’s side of the family but we never met any of hers. Gabriel and I always just assumed she was estranged from them. We had no reason to ever go searching for them. I guess it could be true. Did she say how she knew that?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, once more looking at him. He sat up straight before continuing. “She said an asshole named Metatron told her.” Dean snorted. “The son of a bitch really got to her. She couldn’t even look me in the eye for more than a few seconds when she was speaking. Then she told me...Jesus. She told me that she’s responsible for what happened to Gabriel.”

Castiel became visibly tense after Dean delivered the news. His mouth was slightly agape, and his hands were shaking. Dean felt tears stinging his eyes, a sensation he had not felt even after Bela’s property collapsed.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I promise you I had no idea, Cas. None of us did. This isn’t what we do. This isn’t even like Bela. Benny and I, we got back here as quickly as we could. We came straight to Kali to let her know what happened at Bela’s, and then I was going to find you. I needed you to hear it from me so I could explain. I know that all of this is new to you, maybe you’re not sure what to believe. But I...I told you I was going to keep you in the loop and I meant that. I have nothing to hide from you.”

Again Dean felt the urge to reassure Castiel with a physical touch but he stayed put, willing Castiel with his mind to understand the truth. Castiel’s eyes were shiny with tears and he still had not said anything in response. Dean waited, his breath caught in his throat.

He realized, the longer he really  _ looked _ at Cas, that the man before him looked exhausted. There were shadows around his eyes; the hint of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw; even his hair was somewhat unkempt.

_ He looks worn out,  _ Dean realized.

When Castiel spoke, his voice was shaky and his lips trembled. “When your brother first showed up in my dream, I hoped it was you. I fell asleep after I relapsed and you were the last thing I thought about. When he showed up, I wanted him to fuck off. But then he told me that I should ask you about how you knew when exactly Gabriel was going to die. He told me that you had something to do with it. That made me doubt you.”

“Of course I knew when Gabriel was going to die,” Dean said. That was what this was about? “I didn’t know until right before it happened, I’ll admit that to you. I don’t know how to say this without sounding condescending but...I’m  _ Death _ , remember? So I usually know when anyone is going to die, but...I didn’t see your brother’s death until right before it was written. That’s strange for me. It’s why I came to personally see him off.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was getting his point across or not. He wasn’t sure how else he could phrase what he meant.

Abruptly, Castiel grasped Dean’s hand and squeezed it firmly. He held onto it as he said, “Look me in the eye and promise that you didn’t - please say it again.”

Dean did not respond at first. He only looked at Castiel’s face. Then Dean turned in the loveseat to fully face him, both hands moving up to cradle his face.

“I swear to you that I knew nothing about this before today,” he said with a firm tone. “Sam lied to you, Cas. I won’t let this happen again, I promise.”

Dean needed Castiel to understand that he meant every word. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Castiel’s forehead before embracing him. Cas clung to him silently, only nodding and letting out a choked sob. Dean was holding onto Cas just as fiercely. He felt wetness on his shoulder and resolved himself to be still until his lover was finished weeping.

They stayed like that for several minutes, with Dean occasionally planting another kiss on Castiel’s face.

Dean had never felt responsible for anyone before. Not like this. He had watched out for his brothers; had even sacrificed much of his life for them. When he had elected to become the Grim Reaper, he had done so thinking - foolishly - that it would mean he could change things. He had learned very quickly that even as Death himself, he was only one part of a giant machine. But to stop Sam, and to make sure Cas was safe, he knew he would need to find another way for the machine to operate.

As Castiel’s breathing slowed down, Cas pulled back to look at Dean and said, “I’m sorry for punching you in the face.”

Dean let out a burst of laughter. Castiel chuckled sheepishly.

“You got me pretty good,” Dean replied. “I haven’t been smacked in the face by a normal person in years. Under any other circumstance, it would’ve been hot.”

Castiel grinned at him. “Yeah? I’ll remember that.”

Dean leaned forward until Cas fell backward onto the loveseat, legs spreading to allow Dean room to lay on him. Dean pressed his body to Castiel’s, kissing him greedily as he did so. Castiel let out a small moan when he returned the kiss. Dean hummed after hearing it. They kissed lazily, Castiel’s tongue dancing with his.

“I misbehaved, Dean,” Cas huffed out in between kisses. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

Dean shook his head modestly. “You don’t need to do that, Cas. It’s enough that you believe me. Don’t feel like you need to do anything to make it up to me.”

Castiel’s hands came to rest on Dean’s waistband. He wiggled himself against Dean, eliciting a soft hiss from him.

“I’m not obligated to do anything,” he said before kissing Dean once more. “But I’d like to make you feel good.”


	21. As You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not typically a fan of makeup sex but i really wanted to write an explicit scene so i did. this is short and not necessarily moving the plot forward but i swear the next one will move things along bc it's been 21 chapters already.

Castiel was aware that they were in an office in the back of a coffee shop, but it didn’t deter him from how badly he wanted to suck Dean’s dick right then and there. The office didn’t have any windows thankfully, and Dean had locked the door just before Castiel pushed him up against it.

Castiel ran his hands beneath Dean’s shirt, one hand pinching Dean’s right nipple. He nibbled on Dean’s ear as he teased his nipple, eyes fluttering shut at the sound of Dean’s soft moans. Dean squirmed against him, his arms wrapped around Cas’s torso. Castiel felt sharp claws across his back, and when he pulled back a little to open his eyes, he was surprised to see Dean in his natural form. It always happened so quickly.

“I like you like this,” Cas whispered, once more putting his mouth against Dean’s ear. His hands snaked down to the front of Dean’s denim jeans, fingertips skirting across the outline of where he felt Dean’s growing erection. “I like your claws on me. I like how strong you feel against me.”

“Would you like to feel these claws inside you?” Dean asked in response, aforementioned claws pressing harder against Castiel’s skin. Castiel’s dick pulsed at the thought, and he shivered at the memory of how good it felt the last time.

“Of course I do. But first, let me see what you taste like.” Castiel regretfully stopped squeezing his lover’s bulge and felt for the zipper of Dean’s pants. He made quick work of unzipping then pulling down the pants just enough to have access to Dean’s boxers. He wasted no time in sliding down to his knees, mouthing at Dean’s cock through the fabric of his underwear.

Dean’s breathing grew heavier as Castiel slowly pulled his boxers down. He stole one glance up at Dean, whose eyes were half-open, face flushed a deep shade of pink.

Castiel licked his lips before wrapping a hand around the base of Dean’s cock then taking the tip into his mouth. His tongue slid down the underside of it as he sucked. He earned another heady moan from Dean when he promptly took the rest of Dean’s length in his mouth.

“Ahh, Cas,” Dean groaned. “That feels so good, fuck.”

Cas hummed in response, hoping the vibration would reach Dean’s cock. He was pleased when Dean moaned again. He bobbed his head up and down, taking Dean into his throat as deep as he could. Dean’s hands were gripping Castiel’s hair as Cas moved, and each time Cas swallowed around Dean’s dick, his grip would tighten.

Cas could feel his lips tingling slightly, but he enjoyed it when his lips went slightly numb from giving head. He was also enjoying the way Dean’s hips were bucking forward ever so slightly, fucking into his mouth as gently as possible. But he wanted more.

He placed one hand over Dean’s, which was still gripping him by the hair. He guided Dean’s hand to the back of his head and looked up at him meaningfully.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, breathless. Castiel hummed an “Mmm-hmm” again. “Okay baby.”

Dean placed his other hand on the back of Castiel’s head as well, and he held Castiel firmly in place as he bucked his hips forward.

Castiel closed his eyes in bliss as Dean fucked his mouth, enjoying the harsh feel of Dean’s dick against the back of his throat.

“Jesus, Cas, your lips look so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.” Dean’s voice was heavy with lust. “Let me see you touch yourself. I wanna see you come after I do.”

Cas needed no further prompting. He steadied himself as he unzipped his own pants and exposed himself, shamelessly looking up while he jerked his own cock, a mixture of precome and spit making the movements easy.

“Fuck,” Dean mumbled. “You look perfect.”

Dean slammed his hips forward, burying himself in Castiel’s throat once more. Castiel choked, but he fought to hold it together. The moan that came from Dean’s mouth reassured him it was appreciated. He could feel Dean’s cock swelling just a bit more in his mouth, and then Dean moaned, “I’m gonna come, Cas.”

Cas moaned around Dean’s cock as he swirled his tongue up, taking Dean by surprise. With another thrust, Dean was spilling in his throat. Castiel relished the warmth he felt. Dean held his head in place, and Castiel swallowed every drop. He breathed hard through his nose, trying to keep Dean in his mouth as long as possible.

Finally, Dean leaned back against the door, withdrawing from Castiel’s mouth. Castiel pouted in mock anger.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done yet,” Dean grinned as he helped Castiel stand. He pulled Cas against him and crushed his lips to Castiel’s.

Cas sighed into their rough kiss. His pants slid down his legs and he placed both hands on Dean’s hips, forgetting his aching erection momentarily.

“You didn’t come for me,” Dean said softly, one hand reaching for Castiel’s member. “Let me help you, Cas.”

“Please,” Castiel begged. “Please make me come, Dean.”

Dean’s hand was so warm around his cock that Castiel wanted to whisper a number of things. Dean’s hand was also strong, his grip firm and rough. He settled for “Yes, Dean, yes” as Dean pumped his cock mercilessly.

Castiel barreled into his orgasm without warning. Dean purred in his ear “Yeah baby, just like that, all over me” as he buried his face against Dean’s shoulder. He pressed his mouth to Dean’s body and let out the moan he knew would be too loud if not for the muffle of Dean’s shirt.

Dean kissed up and down Castiel’s neck softly. He wrapped his free arm around Castiel’s waist.

“That was definitely one way to make up with someone,” he said after a moment.

“I was pretty rude to you,” Cas replied, busying himself with pulling Dean’s pants back up. “Not that sex is a way to settle disputes. I just...I really like you, Dean.”

Dean smiled at him freely. He returned the favor, bending down to grab Castiel’s pants and pulling them gently upward. He buttoned them closed and kissed Castiel again.

“I really like you too,” he stated.

Castiel gazed at him, appreciating the words being exchanged so simply. Suddenly he found himself yawning.

“Sorry,” he said as he covered his mouth. “Wow. I didn’t know I was this tired.”

“You look tired. Let me take you home.”

“Is that safe?” Cas asked carefully.

“Your home isn’t safe, no. I meant, you know, you could come to my place.”

Castiel blinked in surprise. Dean’s house? The home of the Grim Reaper?

“No trickery on my end,” Dean continued. “You’re not going to be trapped. It  _ is _ guarded though, and you look exhausted. Rest up and then we can talk about what the Horsemen are thinking of doing about Sam.”

Castiel smiled but said nothing. He only nodded. Dean’s smile at him was big.

“Let’s go.”


	22. Hello, Welcome Home

“This...is your house?” Castiel asked. Dean tried to understand his tone - was it incredulous or was it appreciative? Perhaps both?

Dean was not particularly proud of his home, but neither was he ashamed of it. The cabin existed in a realm closer to purgatory, where time was warped and there was nothing except forestry surrounding it. The woods were relatively quiet but for the soft sounds of the river flowing nearby. The sky was littered with light grey clouds which gave just enough light that it didn’t seem like thunderstorm weather. The cabin itself was made from dark oak wood, giving it an almost eerie appearance - except for the pitched roof. The roof was made of red shingles which, in comparison to the dark logs, brightened the area up some. The two front windows were placed on both sides of a dutch door, which was partially open.

“This is it,” Dean replied. Castiel stared at it longer, his expression unreadable. Dean rubbed the back of his own neck. “It’s lame, right?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Castiel said. His face broke into a grin. “No, I meant that it’s charming. Who would have known that the big bad Reaper would have a cute little cabin in the woods?”

Dean chuckled at his remark. “It was my brother Adam’s. Well, it’s my own replica of it. Come inside and see.” He took Castiel’s hand in his own and led him forward. “It’s pretty normal, so don’t expect anything crazy.”

Dean pulled the door open and motioned for Cas to walk in before him. He followed immediately, closing the bottom half of the door behind him. The inside of the cabin was decorated with leather furniture. There was a large L-shaped brown couch complete with a small ottoman. There was a throw blanket draped over one arm of the couch. A bar with stools in place sat right at the edge of the kitchen. There were two bedrooms in the cabin, with one bathroom separating the two rooms. Castiel gazed into the first bedroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The other room door was closed.

“You can sleep in that one,” Dean said, nodding toward the open door. “The other room is more like a study.”

“Will you lay with me?” Castiel asked. He looked uncertain as he stood waiting. Dean smiled at him warmly.

“Of course,” was his response. “Are you hungry? I can whip up something for you first.”

Castiel’s stomach made a low growl, but he shook his head. He held one hand out for Dean, which Dean took happily. He let himself be led into the bedroom. Castiel kicked his shoes off first, then his shirt - slowly - and finally his pants. He stood there in green boxer briefs that seemed a little too loose on his hips. His eyes were still surrounded by those dark circles. Dean looked at them only briefly before his eyes wandered to Castiel’s pink lips.

“I’m not worthy of you,” Dean said in a low breath. Castiel’s face became flushed. Swiftly, Dean came around the bed and pulled Cas close to him. He kissed Cas hungrily while trying to remove his own clothes. Cas gently tugged on Dean’s jeans, helping him to pull them down. Dean stepped out of them quickly and tossed them across the room. Cas gave a small laugh as he pulled Dean’s shirt off.

“I’d really like to fuck you right now,” Dean said, his voice low. “But you need rest, I can tell. Can we talk while we lay here?”

Castiel’s smile was mischievous as he nodded. He laid on the bed first, stretching and groaning in appreciation until he came to rest on his side. Dean laid behind him, arms laid around his torso. It was quiet as both men adjusted to the sounds of the river outside and the comfort of the king sized bed beneath them.

Dean planted a tender kiss to the nape of Castiel’s neck.

Dean could not recall a time when he had ever been this comfortable with another being. His memories of his earthly life were distant echoes that never seemed real anymore. The memories sat in his mind, a reminder that he had once lived an entirely different life -- but none of it felt tangible anymore.

Being here next to Cas, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with...was that alcohol? Alcohol. Probably Scotch. Cas seemed like a Scotch drinker.

“You mentioned a relapse,” he said after some time. “Can you elaborate?”

Castiel shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Dean was prepared to tell him it was okay to avoid the subject, but Castiel said, “I’m a heroin addict. I was in recovery for a few years before this. I relapsed yesterday. My cousin’s wife came over to cheer me up, and she brought a friend of hers along. Her friend offered me a little dope, and I...I took it. It’s my own fault. I’d been playing with fire with the pain pills the hospital prescribed me. Gabriel would be so disappointed in me. You know, when your brother came to visit me, I thought it was what I deserved for relapsing. I haven’t gone back to sleep since then.”

Dean felt wetness on his arm where Castiel’s head was resting. Afraid of breaking the moment, he decided to simply rub Castiel’s side.

“Have you ever done drugs?” Cas asked. “Does it even affect your kind the way it does mine?”

“I used to drink a lot when I was human,” Dean replied. He continued with a chuckle, “My brothers used to joke about me being the town drunk.”

“How long ago was that?” Castiel rolled over to face him.

Dean ran his fingers down Castiel’s hip distractedly as he thought. “Hmm...maybe two thousand years. I’m  _ much _ older than you. Not as old as Bela, or God...but I’m old.”

“You are old indeed.” Castiel pinched him gently, and Dean looked at him in fake anger. Castiel smiled lovingly. “I hesitate to bring it up, but where is Bela now?”

Dean felt as though a shadow had come over him. He knew his expression must be one of dislike because Castiel’s expression grew serious. He rested a hand on Castiel.

“Metatron has her,” he said eventually. “We’re not sure where they are yet. A Horseman has never been kidnapped before.”

“Another question. What is Metatron? You’ve mentioned him before. So has your brother. And yet, I’m still no closer to knowing who or what that is.”

Dean laughed. “You’re never going to get any sleep if you keep asking things.”

“I can sleep after you tell me about Metatron.”

Dean smiled wryly as he answered. “Metatron is a bastard angel. I think he’s considered an archangel? Well, he’s higher than the archangels technically. He was sort of God’s right hand man. Angel. Thing. God left everything to Metatron to care for, and things were going well until Lucifer decided to buck up. Lucifer was angry that the Big Guy had left everything to not one of his sons but to Metatron. Metatron told him to fuck off basically, that this has been ordained by God.”

Castiel was looking at him, fully awake, with an expression that was a mixture of fear and awe.

“They duked it out,” Dean continued, tone a little deader. “Lucifer lost, like I told you before. No soul is beyond my reach at the end. Huge souls, like angels and demons, I take care of myself. But the day it happened...the Leviathan escaped from Purgatory. The Leviathan are as old as God so..you know...you can imagine how serious it is that they escaped. I left with Benny to go see what was going on, and I sent Sammy to take care of Lucifer. I thought...you know, fuck, I thought he could handle it.” Dean’s voice became a little high pitched. “I’ll never know what exactly that slimy bastard said to get into Sam’s head. But here we are, Sam the Archangel versus Metatron the Unstoppable.”

Castiel nodded as he leaned his head forward to rest on Dean’s chest. Dean took a deep breath and steadied himself.

“I can sympathize with how freaked out you must be,” he said. “My first few years as Death, I was like a lost kid. It’s a system shock, you know? But I believe you can deal with this, Cas. You have a Prophet’s blood in your veins.”

“Allegedly,” Cas snorted.

“Go to sleep, handsome,” Dean whispered as he pulled Castiel closer. “Even without that blood, you’re incredible. I promise you that.”

 

)o(

 

When Castiel awoke, it was dark outside the cabin. The forest surrounding them was quiet but for the chirps of cicadas. Castiel stretched in bed, one hand automatically reaching over to where Dean should be. The bed was empty on that side. He sat up blearily, rubbing his face.

“Dean?” he called out.

“In the kitchen,” came his lover’s reply distantly. “I made some home fries for you. Come wolf it down.”

Castiel stood from the bed and stretched again, this time producing a yawn as well. He stepped into his pants as he headed into the kitchen. When he saw Dean near the stove, he stopped to stare.

Dean was wearing an apron - a soft pink apron with angels printed on it. Beneath the apron, he was dressed in simple plaid pajama bottoms. No shirt, only pants. His muscles flexed as he set a plate on the bar and motioned for Cas to sit.

“Cute apron,” Cas commented, grinning. “This smells great.”

“It was a gift from one of my reapers. It was cute before the whole...ya know, Sammy -- uh, Sam thing.” Dean set another plate down for himself and sat down next to Castiel.

Castiel looked down at his plate, tummy rumbling as he appreciated the sight before him. It wasn’t just home fries - there was bacon, eggs, and toast on the plate as well.

“When did you learn to cook?” he asked, tucking in.

“I keep telling you, babe, I was human once,” Dean replied. “And I like food. It’s comforting. You should see me with a pie. Mmmm.”

They ate in silence at first, occasional touches of affection sprinkled in, the sound of forks clinking on plates filling the air.

They talked amicably, Castiel filling Dean in on why he and Balthazar had been near The Junkyard. They had gone to inform his staff that Gabriel’s cremation was happening that day.

“I’m supposed to be waiting for his ashes. I’m sure I missed the call by now,” Castiel lamented.

“Nah. Time here is almost frozen. When I drop you back off, it’ll be around the same time. Maybe a couple hours later. You’ll be there in time to get Gabriel’s ashes, I promise.” Dean put his fork down and looked at Castiel meaningfully. “You’re still invited to the meeting we’re having. I think your input is more important now than ever. I can pick you up and bring you there tomorrow morning.”

Castiel pushed his plate away and turned to face Dean. He pulled Dean toward him and kissed him. Dean stood from his stool quickly and kissed him back eagerly, one hand on each of Castiel’s thighs. Castiel smiled when he felt the pressure of Dean’s weight on his thighs.

“I appreciate being involved in your meeting,” Cas said before kissing him again. “Let’s go back to my...whatever. My time? I need to get my brother’s ashes. And we need to figure out what to do about the angels running amok.”

Dean kissed him one more time, long and slow, eliciting a slight moan from Castiel. Castiel felt his cock stirring with interest, so he ground his hips against Dean’s body.

“You are trouble,” Dean groaned, a playful grin on his face. He grabbed Castiel by the hair and tilted his head back. With a growl, Dean kissed and sucked on the flesh before him. Castiel writhed in pleasure against him, and Dean abruptly pulled back.

“I’ll take you back, sugar. Get dressed.” Dean let go of Castiel’s hair and gave his thigh a soft slap. Castiel snorted and slid off the stool. He walked into the room and pulled his shirt on. As he was putting his shoes on, he could hear Dean tinkering around in the kitchen. When he walked in, Dean was fully clothed sans apron. The dishes were resting in a dish drain, wet but clean. Dean smiled at him without restaint.

“Let’s go,” he said, hand held out for Castiel. Cas took his hand firmly. “Remember to close your eyes.”

Castiel nodded silently and he took a deep breath.

 

The sensation of moving through...was it time? Space? Whatever it was, it made Castiel feel somewhat disoriented at first. He had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Jumping through space was loud -- it was as if every sound in existence was rushing by Castiel all at once. He knew they had reached their destination when the sounds slowed down and he felt warm air on his face.

He opened his eyes and found that they stood in front of The Junkyard, which was now empty. The afternoon light was duller. Castiel guessed it was around four or five. He and Balthazar had extended an invitation to Gabriel’s employees to come say their goodbyes that evening. He knew they had probably closed the building early. Still, it was unnatural to see Gabriel’s workplace so abandoned.

“You okay?” he heard Dean ask behind him. Castiel turned around and found his dark eyed man gazing at him with worry.

“Yeah,” Castiel replied. “I’m okay now that you’re here with me. My car is parked a little ways down. Would you like to accompany me?”

Dean nodded and began to follow Castiel’s lead. Castiel pressed the button on his keychain twice. The two-push automatic start was an extra feature that he loved about his car. He heard his car’s engine erupt with life as they approached it. As Castiel neared his car, he turned to look at Dean, who was only feet behind him. That was when he noticed the bright light emanating from behind Dean’s figure.

“Dean, what the hell is that?” he asked. Dean looked at him in confusion before turning around to see what Castiel was talking about.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. Castiel had no time to process what happened. There was a large crackle of electricity that made the hair on Castiel’s body stand on end. The force of wind that came gusting through knocked him on his ass and sent debris flying everywhere. He fell down cursing.

“Dean!” he shouted through the rush of wind. “DEAN!”

“I’m okay Cas!” Dean shouted in return. “Stay still!”

The light reached peak brightness, so much so that Castiel was forced to cover his eyes. As suddenly as it all started, everything stilled. The bright light faded, and the gusts of wind dissipated.

Castiel lowered his arms from in front of his face cautiously, blinking his eyes open. Before him stood Dean, who had also been shielding his own eyes. The debris settled around them. Dean was coughing some and waving his arms to clear the air.

It took Castiel a moment to realize that there was now a figure towering over Dean. The figure was looking at Dean with bright blue eyes, and Castiel noticed that Dean was trembling ever so slightly.

The being had a slim face with high cheekbones and pale skin; it had flowing dark blonde hair. And from its back protruded seven giant wings, with feathers that were thick and golden.

_An angel_ , Castiel realized.

This angel was dressed in simple white robes. In one hand it held a silver staff. The angel smiled at Dean.

“My dear brother,” said the angel. “It’s been so long.”

Castiel was flabbergasted. BROTHER? It couldn’t be. This angel was definitely not Sam. Dean had said he only had one other brother, and that brother was dead. Wasn’t he?

Dean’s voice was as shaky as he looked when he spoke. “Adam? Is...is that you?”

The angel nodded. “I have travelled far to find you, big brother. I’m here to speak to you on behalf of my Master, Metatron.”

Castiel got his feet numbly and walked to stand beside Dean.

“What the **fuck**!” Dean shouted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, adam is here! :^)


End file.
